Silent Letters
by Corndog Conspiracy
Summary: He'd always tell her of the day she'd come to save him. Now it seems that day has been forced upon her. She never responded to his letters, never made any bit of contact, but Monika finds herself in his home town... Silent Hill.
1. Intro

_You're here._

_I hadn't expected it._

_But obviously this letter found you, or else you wouldn't be reading it right at this moment._

_I've got to warn you. This place isn't exactly what you would call normal._

_Especially not now._

_I can't quite explain, but you'll begin to understand, I'm sure._

_Brookhaven. I'm there again. I'll leave the choice up to you._

_There's a map of the town stuck to the announcements board in this inn. Just go to the front._

_I've circled it for you._

_With More Love Than You'll Know,_

_Ian Scarlet_

It was short. Much shorter than the others. Much more to the point and urgent. And much more horrifying.

Monika sat numbly on the wooden floor, letting her eyes scan the letter again and again, trying in vain to reread it as something, anything else. A message of complaint from the innkeeper, for turning her music too loud. A note from Trish. Anything.

Ian Scarlet of Silent Hill.

The man who loved her more than life itself. The man who continued to haunt her, despite it being virtually impossible to escape from his current predicament of mental hospital patient. The man who could outwit Brookhaven's outgoing letters chaperoning staff, and fool her into thinking that she, Monika Andreas, might actually be worth someone's unconditional love.

Ian Scarlet.

"Trish..." Her voice was weak.

Trish had been in the bathroom at that time, not having seen the letter been first found, not seeing Monika reading it, but there were no other sounds going on after she finished washing her hands, and even with Monika's currently weak voice, it was easy enough to hear. She opened the door, peeking out curiously, thinking at first that perhaps Monika's voice had just gotten covered up by a bit of mucus, they did have milkshakes on their drive down here.

What's u-... up?" it actually became more of a question then the statement it usually served, and Trish rushed out, her curly hair tied back into a high ponytail. "Hey... hey," she nestled herself next to Monika, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking very lightly to get her attention since she seemed to be in a daze from whatever she was reading, "What's that...?" Her curiosity was overwhelming and, carefully, so as not to spook Monika too badly, slipped it out of her fingers to read over it.

Creepy little bugger. Who the hell was this? Quite obviously it was a man, and he was speaking to Monika in the letter like they had spoken before...

"...Who is this?"

Monika was only vaguely aware of Trish's presence, only looking away from the letter when it was plucked from her hands. And even then, her gaze, which was primarily fixed on Trish, occasionally laid back to the paper.

"Ian." she answered, still shakily.

And after a moment, she repeated: "Ian...he...how...I never told him I was staying in Silent Hill...I never told him anything at all. How did he know?"

She looked pleadingly at Trish. "Trish, something's wrong..."

Oh. Really?

"Well obviously _something's_ wrong, Monika!" there were a few things she wasn't pleased with at that very moment, all of them fairly obvious, "He must be _stalking_ you if you didn't tell him anything. Did you ever reply to any of this guy's letters?" If she had, she would have to reprimand Monika later for provoking such a man, but then if she hadn't... well there wasn't much explaining that could be done.

Trish let out a heavy sigh, shifting her position next to her, resisting the urge to crumple the letter right then and there, but slowly handed it back to Monika instead, "...Look. There's a few things we can do about this... he gave a return address, so he must either be wanting contact back from you, or he wants you to seek him out another way. I'm still technically on duty... they did let me go here for a reason, and it wasn't a paid vacation," she scoffed at that, "So I've got my gun... just in case. ...What do you want to do?"

She knew well enough to stay calm with her. Monika was the rather emotional type, after all, so she had to be quite careful with her tone and how she worded things.

Monika watched Trish dully, her senses of thought process seeming blunt at the fact that Ian had once again found her. Found her and warned her. Unless he was lying.

Trish's reaction was naturally straightforward and to-the-point.

Monika nodded dumbly. Of course. Of course there was a return address for a reason. She just hadn't thought of that reason. That was why Trish was the cop, and she wasn't.

At least her voice was beginning to return a bit. "A...gun? Do you really think the gun will be necessary?"

"Come on, kiddo..." Trish patted Monika's shoulder lightly, "You lay down and watch some TV...think things over. I'll go and get that map he mentioned and grab a few snacks, okay?"

This was so worrisome. Why hadn't Monika told her about Ian's previous contact, or mentioned him at all? How had he come to find out about her, and a better question still, how did he learn how to contact her? Wasn't Brookhaven a mental hospital here? That just brought in more troubles and thoughts she didn't want to worry about at that moment, so she helped Monika up from the wood floor and up onto one of the beds, closest to the television set on the table on the opposite wall.

"Maybe there's a news channel on or something that might say something about the lack of normalcy in this place..."

Although relaxing was the last thing, in Monika's own opinion, that should be considered, she allowed her friend to gently help her up and onto a bed. She felt like a bomb, with all the delicacy Trish was handling her with. At least I'm not sitting in front of the door like a brain-dead zombie, now...

Monika uncomfortably shifted her position on the mattress Trish had led her up onto. She suspected there might be a spring or two out of place, but it was a small price to pay for cheap inn fees...

"I guess so, but...the guy says he's back at Brookhaven. That's one of the mental hospitals my aunt's a therapist at."

Maybe this wasn't the best thing to be telling Trish. She continued anyway. "I mean, maybe...he's just...imagining it?"

_Or lying._ Would he really do that? Just...write lies to her? It wouldn't make any sense at all. He'd have no reason...

That's the trouble with crazy people. They didn't need reasons.

Trish shrugged it off, getting then one of the answers she had wanted; where he got knowledge of her and, more over, her address. Her _aunt_. "Well just try and calm down a little, alright? I'll go get the map... maybe try and decide what you want to do about this; go find him or leave him alone. Either way, I'm going to be doing something about this. It just depends on whether it happens now or later," she let out a long sigh, giving Monika one last glance before pulling a hoody on and heading out the door of their room, making her way out towards the front area of Jack's Inn.

This really was troubling.

Why of all people would this stalker freak go after Monika? And even still, if she never even replied to his letters or whatever other forms of contact he had tried, was he still keeping up with her? Even to the point of finding out that they were here just hours after their arrival!?

If Monika did decide that they should search him out, then she sure as hell was going to give him a piece of her mind.

And by mind, she meant gun.

Monika nodded half-heartedly, forcing her worried mind to focus on the monotonous drone of the TV news anchorman. There was some kind of report on the Thanksgiving vacation traffic, that she was only vaguely paying any attention to.

_I've got to warn you. This place isn't exactly what you would call normal._

She groped about for the remote, seeming to have lost the amount of energy necessary to push herself up and look for it properly. Eventually, her fingers brushed against smooth plastic.

_With more love than you'll know._

The volume was raised to full blare. Her thumb remained on the little rubber '+', unaccepting that it couldn't be any louder.

There it was.

At least the guy wasn't lying about the map. If they did decide to go in find him, that sure as hell would be useful.

Trish plucked it from the tacks on the board, letting the piercings fall to the floor without bothering to pick them up. There were more important things to worry about then a couple of stupid thumbtacks on the floor, anyway. "...We'll find out soon, ya little bastard..." she frowned, rolling up the map and holding it close to her hip, the other arm holding a few cans of soda and bag of donuts that she had gotten from the vending machine and small selection area.

Walking back across the parking lot to their door, there was a noticeable amount of fog that had begun rolling in that wasn't there before, just adding to her lovely mood. Fog wasn't fun...

"Monika, I got some donuts... and the map... it was there with Brookhaven circled like he said... You okay?" she half yelled that through the door while fumbling with the nob, backing up immediately from the door when it opened and the loud TV blared the sound out.

"Turn it down!!"

Monika jumped at Trish's sudden command. After a few seconds extra of fumbling around with the remote she's nearly dropped, the volume was adjusted to a bearable level.

"Sorry..."

"God..." she mumbled, wandering inside and dumping the contents she had gotten while out of the room on the bed next to Monika, standing up straighter after and letting her back stretch a bit since she had been slightly hunched on the walk back. "Why the hell'd you have it so loud, anyway?," a sigh, "Well... did you hear me back behind the door?"

She guessed not with the volume as loud as it was that she could barely hear herself scream over the noise the TV had been emitting. One look at it also told her that the signal was getting steadily weaker, a bit of snow and static covering the screen occasionally, fading in and out, but aside from that it was still watchable, and thus served their purposes. Trish repeated what she had said out in front of the door, that she had gotten donuts and all then, that proceeded to show Monika which donuts were the kind she liked and which were the kind Trish liked.

It was after that and she managed to wipe away some of the donut dust off onto her shirt that she unrolled the map ad put it straight on the bed, pointing out the vibrant red circle around the area that was Brookhaven Hospital. Not a long way from there current position...

"...Did you decide?"

Monika listened attentively as Trish went from complaining about the noise to showing her donuts, and proceeded to the map Ian had promised was there. She noted, with much edginess, the distance between Brookhaven and Jack's Inn.

Now the choice.

To go meet this Ian Scarlet, or let Trish and the proper authorities handle it. The latter of the two was tempting...

"I want to go meet him."

Oh my. That wasn't right.Not right at all. _I have to meet him. I have to at least see him._


	2. Brookhaven Hospital

Meet him.

Great.

She wanted to meet him.

Well, Trish _had_ asked, but God she had so hoped her friend wouldn't have chosen to do that. That she would have chosen to let her and the good ol' Ashfield authorities handle it properly.

Too late now.

"...Okay. ...Do you need time to get ready, then? Or... do you want to just go now?" Oh how against this she was, but it was now that she was so grateful she did bring her gun with her, and while she waited for her friend to reply, she moved into the very next room, leaving the door open and started to change, not wanting to wear something actually meant for summer while meeting a crazy stalker, needing a place to hold her gun in secret and, oh, yeh, the temperature was dropping, which didn't make a good deal of sense.

Wasn't fog started from humidity?

Monika turned on her side, so she was looking out the doorway Trish had just left through, and propped herself up.

"Now, I guess... I mean... the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can begin relaxing, right?" She gave herself a quick look over, debating over whether or not she should change into something else before they left.

Sure. Cotton shorts and an A-shirt were comfortable. But they might give certain 'lovestruck' (if it turned out that this Ian was in fact, head over heels for her) stalkers the wrong idea. _Besides, it's getting a little cold around here anyway... _Monika stiffly got up.

"It'll be really easy. We just go to Brookhaven, ask to visit Mr. Ian Scarlet, and calmly ask him to stop sending letters. I bet once it's clear I'm not going to return his...feelings...he'll just stop. Right?"

How far from the truth she was...

"Right. I mean, your aunt works there. How hard could it be to get around the system?" of course let alone the fact that she's a cop, but thankfully Trish wasn't one to make allusion's to her occupation every few minutes or so. Walking back out of the room in her hoody, blue jeans and sneakers, hair freshly taken down and a bit frizzier than usual from the heat before (which had been the reason for her putting it up in the first place), Trish meandered over to Monika, shaking her head to get some hair out of her eyes.

"So you're ready, right?" she patted one area of her waist, to show where she was keeping the gun, though it was perfectly hidden beneath the hoody, "We should probably hurry... that fog's coming in fast and I don't want to be lost in streets I don't know," she frowned, nodding her head towards the front door before collecting the map and rolling it up, as well as picking up one of the donuts she had gotten for herself and putting one end of it in her mouth, just to hold until she managed to fold the map decently enough to stick it into one of her pockets.

"It'll be fine."

Monika went to retrieve the dark blue sweater she'd thrown onto the sitting room's armchair, listening to Trish and giving little nods of agreement here and there. She decided against swapping her shorts for jeans; they went down almost to her knees, and Trish seemed just a little impatient.

"Mhm." she gave Trish a smile. "We'll get back as quick as possible and relax before we go visit Aunt Margaret."

Monika began toward the door. "Let's go, then."

The more direct, and closer route, to the hospital was cut off, according to the map, and so they had a choice of going one of two ways; Go up Munson to Nathan Avenue and then change course to Carroll Street, or they could go down Munson, switch to Rendell, and then make it to Carroll that way. Considering their placement, the latter option seemed to be further, making Trish opt for the first, going over Nathan to Carroll.

Trish zipped up her hoody upon stepping outside, pocketing the key to their room. It was getting colder out, and darker, despite the time her watch said; three o'clock, PM.

"Keep warm," she mumbled absentmindedly to Monika while picturing the map in her head, not wanting to roll it back out just to fold it up again right after. Jack's Inn was at the very top of Munson, close to Rosewater Park, so they would have to walk quite a while, but it seemed better than going that long a way down Munson with how quickly the temperature and visibility was dropping. Now and again, while walking, never when she stopped, she thought she heard shuffling aside from Monika and her, and it was an awkward noise, like a sort of slurping, crawling...

Not natural, that was for sure.

But it stopped just as soon as she and Monika did, and thus she disregarded it, deeming it just in her imagination, or perhaps the pavement was just a bit odd and that could have been the cause, as well.

By the time the two of them finally reached their sought location, it was ridiculously dark out, and visibility outside was down to almost zero because of the fog. Trish had been having problems seeing even three feet in front of her and so she had grabbed Monika's wrist to make sure she wouldn't loose sight of her, to which the blond had yelped because the motion had been quick and unexpected, but otherwise she gave no response, just kept close and followed obediently.

"Alright, Monika... we're here no, so until it gets light out again and this fog clears out, there's no going back to the Inn. We may even have to spend the night here... But you're sure about this? Wanting to meet him?" She had to be sure, didn't she? Sure, she would be a little peeved that they would have walked all this way for nothing if Monika had changed her mind, but she might have felt better in the long run if she did decide on that instead.

To say the very least, their trip to Brookhaven was an eerie one. Monika's hopes of getting their situation over with in the unambiguous, earthly hours of daylight were smothered with mist. The fog literally dominated the premises, rendering their visibility radius just peaking a yard. Darkened patches or silhouettes occasionally broke up the infinite white; unhelpful to two newly-arrived tourists without knowledge of Silent Hill's physical landmarks.

The strange squelching noise made it almost unbearable.

_It's just your imagination. It's just your imagination. It's just your imagination. Over and over Monika repeated this in her mind, nonstop, until they had finally reached Brookhaven._

Spending a night in a mental hospital was the last thing she had planned to have happened as a result. Still...

"Yes." Monika nodded, with only slight uncertainty. "I'm sure...it has to be me...I...think...We should go find a nurse."

It was, after all, pure luck that they managed to find their way there in the first place. Fortune might not smile so brightly upon them a second time...

That settled that.

Trish gave a curt nod and, still holding onto Monika's wrist, though looser now that they had reached their destination, opened up one of the double doors and stepped on through. Into darkness.

It was as though night had over taken the hospital, and it seemed _well_ past lights out on the inside, and at the moment, there wasn't a soul to be seen. Had everyone gone to sleep already? It was still the early afternoon, but you couldn't tell either from outside and especially not from in here; there were little to no windows, and the ones that were immediately present were on the doors that had just closed softly behind them, which the blinds were turned down on.

The structure was made from grey (or so it currently appeared) wood, and looked quite old, which Trish didn't doubt considering the actual age of the town itself.

"It looks like the Reception Area's just ahead," she motioned for Monika to follow, walking slowly and trying to be quiet, but the wood was quite creaky beneath their feet. Hadn't anyone tried to fix that? And a better question still, didn't most hospitals have tile, not wood? Easier to clean and disinfect? Or was she thinking to much of a _hospital_ hospital, and not a mental hospital? Either way it was plain weird.

The door to the Reception was unlocked, and Trish turned it, thanking the door silently for the very quiet noise that came from it, only to curse under her breath at the next sight.

Devoid.

There, again, was not a soul to be seen, which didn't make a lick of sense at all considering the amount of people that were actually supposed to be in this building to begin with, staff and patients alike. She sighed, "What the hell..." and continued inside, not moving too quickly so that Monika could keep close. There were two tall bookshelves in the room, as well as another door that was locked, and a desk with some files and things scattered about on them, probably about patients but she couldn't help but wonder what all of it was doing in such disarray.

Wasn't this Ian person a patient here? And hell, Monika's aunt worked here, why wasn't she making sure things were tidy and running according to regulations.

Lucky for them there was a desk lamp, and Trish walked over to it immediately to cast some light in the dismal room that was, indeed, made of grey wood. "What the hell's going on?"

Monika dully glanced around at what might have once been an acceptable and proper hospital reception area. Gray. It was all gray and dismal and awful, excluding the faint glow of a desk lamp Trish was fortunate enough to find working. There was no garish hospital fluorescent lighting. No hard, uncomfortable waiting room seats or magazine piles. No creaks of floorboards, other than their own. Just bookshelves and a front desk that was as cluttered and disorganized as the rest of the room was bare.

"There isn't anybody here..." Monika gave the room another look over, as if to double check and confirm this. "Shouldn't there at least be a receptionist?"

One would assume so. Hospitals, even mental hospitals, were not the kinds of places that everyone could just leave. Everything just...faded. The walls and floors were faded. The papers scattered across the desk's top were faded or fading. Everything around them was faded. Did people fade? Could movement and noises and life just wither away into nothing?

It was something Monika preferred to push to the corner or her mind, than dwell upon.

She squinted through the gray. "If we could just find a nurse's station, or some sort of administrator's office..."

_No wonder Ian hates it here..._

To find such a thing as a Station or Office, one would need a map.

With a bit of looking there might be some hope of finding one, but it could have been anywhere.

"What the _hell_!" Trish shouted, and quite loudly at that. After she had turned just a tiny bit she saw a piece of paper pinned to the wall behind them and when she faced it properly, low and behold, a bloody map! At least that solved that problem. She let out a sigh and removed it from its holding, which was yet another thumbtack pushed seemingly strategically into the square labeled Day Room, now with a small hole inside of it.

She wasn't sure whether to be thankful or creeped out at how it was just there so easily for them.

A sigh of relief to calm.

Well... there didn't appear to be any Nurse Station or Administrator's Office, but there was a Doctor's Lounge, and that might just work if there was anyone at all off duty which, at that moment, seemed to be _everyone_. "There's the lounge right there," Trish tapped the room with the tip of her thumb, bitting the corner of her lip lightly.

"At least that room's pretty much right next to us..." Trish mumbled a few small curses under her breath before picking the map up and folding a little roughly, giving a wince when she heard it tear the tiniest bit. Hopefully it wasn't on anywhere important, just a corner or something. "Let's go."

At last, Trish had found some kind of guide. Not a living, breathing guide, who might explain how on earth a mental hospital could go unstaffed (at least as far as they could see), but a map. The top of the paper flopped forward just slightly, as the single pin that held it in place was nowhere near the top, but tactfully (or sloppily) pushed at the very center of the area labeled 'Day Room'.

Monika watched silently as Trish removed the tack releasing the map...and apparently something else. A piece of notepaper, obviously arranged to fall at the slightest movement of it's hiding place, that fluttered down onto the wood floor, just in front of her left foot.

Trish hadn't noticed it at all in her impatience.

"Hold on a second Trish..." Monika bent down to take a closer look.

Hold on a second?

"What?" she looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow, keeping the map outstretched in front of her for it to be easy to look over. Where was a pen when you needed one? Trish wanted to make notes on it, maybe even as they went a long. Some doors were bound to be locked, weren't they? And what if, on the ridiculous off chance, there actually was no staff? They would need a quick and easy way to tell which way was where... Ah, and salvation, a red pen, though it was nearly out of ink, on the floor just under the desk.

That little adventure over with, she turned back to give Monika her full attention with whatever she had found. A note? Maybe from one of the nurses or something. Wouldn't it be funny to find a love letter from the staff?

Horrifyingly.

She was half correct with her amusing thought.

A love letter indeed, though an awkward one. ...And from him.

_"I never asked before, since that day._

_Did you get the gift I gave you on Valentines Day?_

_It was a heart shaped box._

_I made it myself in the 'crafts' portion of the day._

_It gives us something to do with our hands, as well as occupies most of us so the orderlies don't need to pay as much attention._

_Inside was something important._

_Inside it's insides._

_That's where it is._

_I'm so glad you came, Monika._

_Waiting to see you,_

_Ian"_

The part where his last name would be, or so she guessed, was torn, probably in her own fit of impatience and, at the same time, relief of where she tore the thing off in a huff.

"Well... he certainly likes the word 'day', doesn't he?"

Wait a minute...

Day. Valentine's Day. The Day. ...And the thumbtack shoved into that one spot. The Day Room.

"Okay, this fucker's creeping me out... He's a patient here, right? And he got a map, some how... pinned it in here... with that letter. ...Did he just give us an ass-load of hints, or am I reading into this way much?" Trish gave Monika a pleading look. It was just too coincidental to not be a hint, right? Were they supposed to go to the Day room? And hell, should they even listen to it? He was a nut, after all, if he was here...

_'Inside was something important.'_

With some self-consciousness, Monika shifted her uncomfortable crouching position, suddenly very much aware of the delicate silver locket that swung below her neck. It's rhythmic tapping against her chest, something she'd hardly notice otherwise, now felt incessant and terribly obvious. Her Valentine's gift.

_I should've thrown this thing out a long time ago..._ Monika hated herself for not having done so in the first place, and then deciding one day to put it on. The way it made the plain, boring girl in the mirror look just a little bit less plain and boring. Maybe even just a little pretty. The way it made Ian seem like less of an obsessive stalker from a mental hospital, and more like a lonely man that wanted nothing more than to love, and be loved...

Of course, Monika said none of this aloud.

All she could do was return her friend's confused look, and reply, quite unhelpfully: "I don't know, Trish...I...I...maybe it would be better to do what he says."

Monika stood up slowly. "The day room's not far from here. Maybe we should try that first...and...if nothing's there, we can try the Doctor's Lounge."

She really, _really_ wanted to get this over with.

"Okay?"

"Do what he--" another heavy sigh from Trish, "Fine. It's not as though we have anything else we can do until this fog lets up anyway... might as well humor him..." Of course, she had her own ideas about this "Ian Scarlet" that Monika maybe didn't; perhaps he was truly very old and a creepy old man, perhaps he was psychotic enough to be violent, who knew?

Then again, not everyone could fit such descriptions... Maybe she was the one wrong. All that would let them find out now was to find Ian and confront him face to face.

Fine, then.

To the Day room for them.

"We're takin' this, though," she said with a bit of scorn for this man, but swallowed it and rolled the map up into a pocket size, depositing it in the back of her jeans. Another sigh and she checked her gun's placement, just to be safe, and proceeded to nod to Monika before lightly stepping around her and back out the door into the main lobby. Still as dark as before, as if she had expected a change. Pity no one had noticed, though, and turned on a light or two. Where was a damn switch, anyway?

Well, at least it was just around the corner and down the hallway, whichever way they went wouldn't matter so Trish turned to her immediate left and went by memory. The rooms would be labeled, anyway, wouldn't they? Or at least they should be, considering that was common place in most hospitals.

"I'm going to laugh so hard if he's just sitting in the Day room like a dumb ass..."


	3. The Key Marked 'S'

_"I'm going to laugh so hard if he's just sitting in the Day room like a dumbass..."_

Out of politeness and habit, Monika forced a smile, even though Trish probably couldn't see it in the dark. It wasn't dark dark, exactly. Not pitch dark. But still, a very scary, very overwhelming dark, that certainly villified an already frightening mental hospital.

Monika kpet close to Trish, her heart skipping a beat every time her friend turned, or made a sudden move out of Monika's limited line of vision.

"It's not too much farther, is it Trish?" Her voice was edgy.

There wasn't much of a point in her responding since just a few seconds after Monika asked did they end up being right in front of the door they needed. Trish stood up a bit straighter, fairly uneasy with the still, silent darkness. Still, there was no turning back at this point, and she opened up the door, which gave a loud, sickening creak.

Well.

How fitting...

"Umm... Monika... I don't think he's here..."

It was so hard to tell.

So damn hard.

The darkness in this place, it looked as though it was eating away at the very rooms. Making them disappear. The room was entirely barren, not a singe piece of furniture or anything at all around. What the hell was a completely empty room doing in a place like this? There had to be something around... Anything.

"What the hell... this doesn't make any sense."

Unless he was hiding somewhere in the dark. Close to the corners, where the meager lighting let in through the open door didn't penetrate. Just maybe, although why he might do such a thing was beyond Monika.

Come to think of it...

Why someone she'd never met in her life and only just recently heard of would write as if he were her long lost lover was beyond her. Empty, foggy cities and abandoned mental hospitals that her aunt supposedly worked at...all beyond her. Monika tried not to think about it too much, but such a task was easier committed to than done.

"Why would he send us to the Day Room, then?" It didn't occur to her that Trish wasn't exactly qualified to answer that. All Monika's mind could think about was how unbelievable it was that Ian could not be in the very place he had obviously coaxed them into...

The possibility of misunderstanding teetered on the edge of her thoughts...

"...I don't know," Trish mumbled quietly after a moment's pause, squinting into the darkness to try and get a better view but to no avail. A sigh. "We can't go in there until we find a flashlight or something... Wait, do you have your cell with you? We can use the screen..." yes that momentary bit of genius was based on her training, use what ever is at your disposal, even if you normally wouldn't think of it that way.

While a cell phone screen wouldn't be too far fetched to be used as a light, it was the closest thing they would have had at the very moment, leaving not much room to be exceedingly creative.

Flipping open the screen Trish pressed the power button, waiting for it to start up and wincing when the bright light flashed into her eyes which had gotten used to the darkness. Without another moment's delay she flashed the light into the Day Room, which turned out to be quite large and only the dimmest hint of light was bounced off of the adjacent wall.

_Static_.

Trish nearly jumped out of her skin, pulling the phone back to her and nearly smacked it for its volume to be turned down, but finally she found the volume button and turned it to zero, giving Monika an almost disgusted look by how shrill the radio snow had been, almost mixing with a high pitched tone instead of just normal static. That definitely wasn't normal. Still, she composed herself and turned the phone towards the pitch black room once again, taking a cautious step inside, flashing the light around here and there to get an idea of the room's shape.

And just barely as soon as Monika was thinking: Thank goodness I remembered to charge this thing earlier, the silence of the seemingly empty Day Room suddenly errupted into loud static. Needless to say, Monika's gratefulness was considerably dampened by the time Trish had found and fixed the problem. Still, she tried to take into consideration just how much less she liked absolute darkness, and swallowed her complaints.

And absolute darkness was the only thing Monika's cell phone's tiny, backlit screen was preventing. It was like trying to use a steak knife to hack a trail through the Amazon: frustratingly futile. By the sounds of their echoed shuffling, Monika was pretty sure they were in a fairly large and empty room. There seemed to be no real hazards, except maybe accidentally walking into a wall. Beside, of course, the constant threat of this Ian Scarlet. But at least they weren't in danger of tripping or anything, right?

_Trish is a cop...she knows what she's doing...we have a gun and Ian doesn't._ She certainly hoped he didn't.

"You'd think a place like this would have some windows..." Monika kept her eyes trained on the little square of moving light. "I guess...maybe there's a reason...if they get a lot of autistic people, maybe. Or...maybe Ia-- this guy is autistic. They have a hard time communicating emotions, you know. Autistic people. Maybe that's why--"

Monika was cut short by the sound of metal against wood, just below her. Experimentally, she pressed the toe of her sneaker down, and felt something small and hard through the sole.

"Wait a second, Trish..." Monika crouched down and groped about just in front of her foot. "There's something on the ground here."

Her fingers brushed against something besides the dusty wooden floors. Something wide, then tall and thin, then jagged. "It feels like a...a key I think...there's a piece of paper wrapped around it..."

Trish bit her lip a bit, hearing that news. A key? Wasn't that just a little too convenient for them? Especially in this situation... and another piece of paper. Great. Awesome. Just dandy. She took a few steps back towards where Monika spoke from, turning the cell phone so that the light flashed against her momentarily before cutting out from inactivity, which a quick button press fixed and the bright light was once again shining forth against her friend.

"Can I see?" she asked a bit hesitantly, assuming, of course, that this was once again from that stalker. And yes, upon reading it, she was quite right.

_"This room._

_I always hated it._

_They'd bring us here in groups to make us do something boring._

_Usually sitting in a circle and discussing one topic or another so they could judge our sanity that way._

_I believe it was these studies that allowed me to leave this place a few months ago._

_One just has to act in such a way for long enough... it did take a while, though._

_They're not exactly fooled easily._

_So I'm back because I do belong here._

_I belong here to meet with you._

_That's all._

_We can leave after."_

Not only did this guy assume that she was completely alone in her travels, he was even so disillusioned that he thought she would be willing to go off with him somewhere. To what end? What if, when they met up with him, she refused--what would he do to her, then? Damn... Trish moved the light again as she perched down next to Monika, handing her back the piece of paper and swapping it with the key, rolling it around in her fingers. It was dull, rusty looking but still obviously silver with a letter 'S' printed on the flat end.

"Es?"

A quick check of the map. What on earth started with 'S' in this place? Lucky for them all of the rooms were so clearly marked...

A few Store rooms, a Shower room or two, a whole row of numbered 'S' doors on the third floor, a Special Treatment Room. Damn and damn again.

Trish let out a heavy sigh and stood back up, tucking the map under her arm and handing the key back, gave Monika a quick nod to the open door. As soon as they were out she closed the cell phone and pocketed it, dropping to her knees a bit roughly and laying the map out in front of her, looking up at Monika.

"Key's got an 'S' on it. Now, according to this, we've got about twenty-one different rooms that _start_ with 'S'. We can _not_ go and check each and every one of them so lets start with this whole damn row on the third floor. There's no number on the key, right?"

A definite 'no', she had looked straight at it. Knowing that, Trish looked around her person a bit frantically for something to write with, but, nothing available, just snatched the key up and made a long, thin slice through that entire row of rooms so they wouldn't have to check them.

Another sigh.

That still left seven other rooms to check. It would take too damn long and Trish wasn't the most patient person on the planet to begin with.

S.

S, s, s. S for Scarlet. Maybe it was _his_ key. How horribly ironic it would have been if he had been waiting all along in the most obvious place of all. His own room. Monika's brow furrowed and she unrolled Ian's message again, to reread it properly.

_They'd bring us here in groups to make us do something boring._

_Usually sitting in a circle and discussing one topic or another so they could judge our sanity that way._

Monika cast a skeptical glance at the key, now clutched in her friend's hand for use as a makeshift marker. It seemed doubtful a place like a mental hospital and a mental hospital like Brookhaven would bother custom-initialing patient rooms. He wouldn't be Ian Scarlet here, he'd be 'patient number such and such'. No, definitely not a personal room. And definitely not an 'S plus number' room, according to the long, straight slashes across the map. The only 's' places left were several storage areas and shower rooms, inconveniently placed on every level of the building.

It only made sense to start at level one. The two had devised a search plan and were off to follow it within a matter of minutes, trying in vain to fit metal teeth into locks they weren't made for, and searching about for somebody--any living, breathing being at all--to soothe their worried minds. Not only had they failed in that, but also discovered a faulty elevator power system, which at the moment, stranded them on this one story of the building.

Monika didn't miss peeking out of any of the few windows they'd passed, hoping desperately to see something other than white and gray. She noted with some cynicism, that it seemed Ian had pulled them both into an odd little game with a vague likeness to hide-and-seek. Here they were, running all about this labyrinth of an asylum, after him, the evasive prize...

How pleasing for him.

Right.

Still a lot of rooms to go, but they had been cut down considerably and there were just the two on this floor. Store room first, since it was in their immediate vicinity; Trish picked up the map again, folding it so that just the first floor was showing for now and held it at her side, the key in the opposite hand, counting the doors they passed under her breath before stopping. Store Room one.

Lifting the key up and staring down at the knob, she hoped this was the one, just so it would be done that much faster and could find this Ian guy, either to shoot him or turn him into the police, though with the amount of activity currently present in Brookhaven she doubted very much that there was an active police force in this town. More and more she was getting the feeling that Silent Hill was a little _too_ silent. Like a ghost town.

A light jiggle of the handle and the key. Nothing. The key barely even fit in the lock. She let out an aggravated sigh and turned around to face Monika, nodding for her to go over to the next hall to check the Shower Room. She did wonder why it would be a _shower_ room. Perhaps they were misinterpreting? Well, it would still be good to check either way, but as soon as the same thing happened with that knob she felt the need to retract that thought. This hall was even darker than the last, and had a stale smell to the air, one that seemed mildly expected from such an old looking facility. Yet another angry sigh and they were once again in the main lobby, finished with the only two 'S' rooms on this floor.

Elevator time.

...Or so they thought.

"What?"

Trish pressed the up button a few times with her thumb, causing no light to come on and nothing to stir behind the tightly sealed metal doors. Damn, that made sense. There wasn't any other light source and now this, the power must have been out. "Shit... Monika, the elevator's aren't running," Trish bit an end of the key lightly, just to give herself another free hand, and brought up the map again, holding it close to her face.

Stairs, stairs...

...Wait.

_Stairs!?_

Trish practically threw the map onto the floor and tore the key away from her mouth to examine it again, very closely, staring hard at the 'S' imprinted on it.

Store room.

Shower room.

None of those made sense.

Stairs.

'S' for _stairs_?! How clearer did that need to _be_?

"...Seems that boy's made a fool of us."

Monika paused for a long time after that, just staring. "...I--...what? You mean the clue...?"

Trish had the expression of a woman on a mission. She didn't keep still as she explained her discovery, irritation and determined curiosity speeding her pace to a speed that made Monika nervous of losing track of her friend. By the time they had reached the suspected 'correct answer' of Ian's hint, she was struck dumb with speechless realization.

She would be sure to admonish him for that once they met.

Sure enough, Trish's suspicions were indeed correct, her flash of deductive wit rewarded with a snug key fit that gave a dull _clunk_ when she turned it. There was a bit of apprehension immediately after that initial rush of excited adrenaline, but surely nothing that couldn't be remedied with firearms. The two barreled in suddenly, Trish ahead with her weapon whipped forward, and Monika just behind.

Nothing.

The gun barrel hovered for a while longer, as both it's wielder, and whom it was protecting strained their ears to hear anything at all that might warn them of a lurking danger. Silence. Dark and silent and seemingly safe. Trish lowered her arms into a more comfortable position, but left her finger across the trigger.

After a quick exchange of nods between the two women, they began to trudge up the stairs, their progress gradual with darkness that grew more and more absolute the higher they climbed, even despite the flimsy glow of Monika's cell phone screen. After much toil and failure to open the second story floor, another note was found.

This one was shorter:

_I told you._

_You're getting closer, I know._

_And sorry about the bit of confusion the key must have caused. I know just how many 'S' rooms there are in this place._

_Not to worry, though, my dear. The rest is easy, but the elevators don't work properly. The power might have something to do with that. Why don't you have a look since you're up here?_

The last door opened. They were back outside, but with a view now. A Brookhaven haunted by suffocating fog, littered with grim, ugly silhouettes and shapes of distant objects. Everything. It was all horrible and gray and infected.

Trish and Monika were grateful for this very direct and easy-to-fulfill clue. Go up to the roof and turn the power back on. It was _simple_. The main power control was easy to locate on a nearly empty roof, and reactivating it consisted of only the flip of a lever.

Back down to the third story door they had passed over. Now it was all a matter of finding the elevator, which was yet another very unbelievably uncomplicated task. From this point however, Monika was at a loss, and when she glanced at Trish for perhaps another miracle inspiration, she was replied with her own expression mirrored.

No matter. They'd just try someplace they hadn't been to yet. The basement and the second floor. Just out of curiosity, and despite her friend's protesting, Trish curiously poked at the 'B' button, but was disappointed to find her action inconsequential in the least.

The second floor it was.

They would take the stairs to get to the basement later on, but for now this was their only choice.

Trish pressed the button and a light came on behind it, casting a dim though eerie glow on whatever was near it, namely her and Monika. They kept close to the door for the mean time, waiting only a few small seconds before there would have been a ding, but that seemed to be out of order and instead the doors pulled themselves open with an aged groan.

Something seemed off immediately to Trish, but she couldn't place what right at that moment. The air was stale and stagnant, as if nothing had gone in or left this hall in a very, very long time, but how could that be if Monika's own aunt worked in this facility?

Speaking of Margaret, where the hell was she? She didn't come to meet them at the inn, they hadn't seen a soul in town through the fog, and now there was no one in this place at all, not even patients?

It just didn't add up, no matter how she tried to wrap her mind around it. What the hell was going on here?

The two stepped out of the elevator, Trish scrutinizing everything particularly, turning to the left and staring at the long hallway before them there. Dark as ever, but there were some windows that weren't boarded (which she couldn't for the life of her understand why some _were_ boarded unless patients here were particularly violent and they had broken), letting a meager amount of light in that made the use of the cell phone on this floor superfluous, and she pocketed it.

So what now?

No other hint from this kid?

No more words from the creepy little bastard?

Well, she was mistaken.

A quick turn to the right granted her sight to an old wooden table parked up right against an alcoved wall, and sitting daintily atop it was another, slightly more crumpled piece of paper.

_There's always something stirring in this town. It's almost disgusting. Not everyone sees it, though._

_Have you seen it?_

_The fog?_

_What about the dark?_

_I hope you haven't seen the dark... no one should have to, but it's there. It exists. And it eats at everything._

Underlined was the last sentence. And it eats at everything. Was that significant, then? It had to be, or else he wouldn't go through the trouble of pointing it out so blatantly... or maybe he was just being weird. He was insane, wasn't he? That's why he was put in this place to begin with.

"Aside from him being honestly insane... I think I would peg him as a druggie, first. This boy does not sound sober."

The fog was everywhere, but what the hell? There was a lake and it was November. It was chilly as hell. No wonder there's fog. But the dark? That was a bit of an odd statement... _'I hope you haven't seen the dark...' _This whole place was dark, what was he talking about? She probably shouldn't have been trying to analyze the words of a possibly drugged out mental hospital patient, but there she went, doing it again. Every note brought her more questions about his character than answers.

Why was he being so cryptic?

Why bother with the notes instead of just meeting Monika at the front?

It was probably like a game to him and he was fun running all over the place placing these things, always being one step ahead of them.

"Eats at everything... okay... What can we get from that line," she tapped at it with her finger, looking at the ceiling and pondering while Monika reread it next to her. A thought; "Maybe... he's not being metaphorical. Not some kind of warning, but..." Warning? Why did she jump to that? ...Well... it did sound kind of like a warning. To stay out of the darkness. But why, if he had brought them into such a dark place to begin with? "But maybe... shit... He's making about as much sense as my uncle. Bastard's always drunk, too..."

Drugs. Alcohol. Insanity.

Any combination of those could be why he was saying things like this, but for every note he left, they did seem to accomplish something. Damn it all... It was just like a scavenger hunt.

She sighed and attempted to continue, "Not a warning... Maybe... something physical. That eats at everything... what could they have in a hospital that 'eats at everything'..." Everything that came to mind after that thought turned into metaphorical objects; therapy, insanity, darkness of the mind.

Wait... yes!

Suddenly Trish went tense and glanced quickly to Monika.

"You're a nurse... this is a hospital. Maybe this clue's tied to things you'd find in a regular hospital, like... medical alcohol or something."

Was about the only thing that made any sense to her in regards to that line, hopefully Monika would have a clue.

"There's got to be a way we can narrow it down more..." she glanced up at Monika, a worried and almost pitiful look showing in her eyes momentarily but she blinked it away quickly, casting her gaze back down to the map.


	4. Murmur

It wasn't too far-fetched an idea.

A mental asylum full of easily-excitable patients was bound to get it's share of scrapes and cuts along the way. Alcohol would be applied to the wound to 'eat at' any lingering bacteria and prevent infections. _What else 'eats at everything'? Fire? Black holes?_

"I... I guess that's the only reasonable answer." Monika's expression was one of blank perplexion. Her mumbling seemed to be directed more to her own worried mind than Trish's question. "What would he need with medical alcohol...?"

Unlike before, the two women didn't have the benefit of specific destinations, as they had before. Brookhaven Hospital, a room starting with 's', and the power control room all definately existed in definite locations. Medical alcohol however, proved to be a harder find, and after only five minutes of aimless wandering, Trish and Monika instead opted an entire sweep of the second story for anything at all besides empty or locked rooms. The attempt proved not to be in vain.

_What was that?_ Monika stood at the doorway of a storage closet she had just stepped back out of to leave. Something had caught the stray light from the crack of the long-since-opened door and reflected it right at the last milisecond. She squinted and moved further inside, both hands out. After a quick call out to her friend and a minute or so of groping around in the dark...

_Click._ Fingernail against plastic. It was a very familiar sound to someone studying in the medical field.

Monika navigated her hand around the object in question, so it's hard surface was touching her palm, and carefully lifted it up from it's obscure place on the back of a dusty shelf. The bottle (she was now absolutely sure it was a medicine bottle) replied with a soft clatter of pills. Once she was back into the limited radius of her cell phone's screen light, she saw that it was brown, with 'Oxydol' faintly printed across the white label.

"That makes sense!" Monika nodded excitedly. "We use Oxydol in the hospital to clean out wounds... to eat bacteria! I can't believe Ian knew about that..."

She was almost flattered that he'd go through the trouble of including something in their makeshift scavenger hunt that related with her occupation. Just very slightly, but not quite. There was, among other things of course, still the trouble of how the Oxydol would help them at all.

The very next thing they found was an elevator. According to Trish's partially-shredded map, the building had two in total, and they had just found the other one.

"You know Trish, he's smarter than you give him credit for." Monika's voice was grave with a very subtle hint of impression. "We should really be careful."

Trish was moving down the line of destination buttons, starting from story three and moving her finger down along the line. Monika had opened her mouth to say something more, but was interrupted with her own sharp yelp at the sudden shudder and jolt of the elevator, unexpecting of any reaction from a device that seemed even less capable than the almost inoperative lift they had come out of.

"Which button did you press?!"

_Anything but basement. PLEASE, anything but there..._

"Be... It was the only one that worked," Trish mumbled, looking up at the ceiling of the elevator as it creaked downwards, groaning harshly against the walls.

How could a building so normally populated have fallen into a manner of such disrepair in a matter of days? Hadn't Monika's aunt been there just two days ago, right before the holiday?

And what of the patients?

None of it made any sense at all, but her thoughts were cut short when the elevator slowed and stopped, the doors pausing unlike before and slowly allowed them passage.

The basement was, oddly enough, lit. There was a light in the center of the hall and right above the middle of the alcove they were standing in with a cage around it, probably to prevent misuse and patients from hurting themselves or the light source, not that she could fathom why they would possibly be allowed to get into the basement anyway, but it was reasonable to think that it was strictly protocol.

On the floor and walls were a mix of white and faded blue tiles, all covered with some amount of dust, dirt and grime, making her wonder again if this place really was so busy as Margaret had always described it. Two doors were set on the wall across from them and Trish noted, as the elevator closed behind them, that they were the only two doors listed on the map to be in the basement. There were the stairs, then a small 'L' shaped hallway, and then this oddly shaped alcove with the one elevator and those two rooms.

The hinges on both looked rusted over, causing her to give a very displeased frown before folding up the map yet again.

Down the hallway to the light furthest from them there was a small buzzing and the occasional, very brief flicker--not fully turning off but lowering its brightness and then returning, as if it had been left on for ages and was starting to run out of juice.

Nothing seemed out of order.

Nothing suspicious.

Where was he going with this clue about the Oxydol if, in fact, they hadn't just misunderstood?

"Let's look around a little. He might've hidden something in one of the rooms."

A store room and a boiler room. Those were their options.

Trish wasn't sure just then if, since they were right next to each other, she wanted her and Monika to check one out separately. It might be a good idea for them to do so, but then again, what if leaving Monika alone and going into one of those rooms actually lead her straight to this stalker and then he did who knows what.

No.

Going their separate ways now was too dangerous, and she turned to Monika and nodded her head towards the Store room, the door closest to the wall, one hand tightly on her gun and the other turning the knob.

Monika lifted her shoulders and dipped her neck into a half-shrug half-nod. This was the end of the line. The basement was the only level of Brookhaven left. At the very least, the only place left Monika's energy would allow. All this scrambling about and hiking up and down stairs was making her entire body droop with fatigue: feet all but dragging along the gritty basement floor, arms hanging weakly at her sides.

Monika's last glimpse out a window had done nothing but snuffed her hopes of a possible change in weather. It wouldn't be long before their entire bodies, weary with both physical and mental burdens, would also slow down, begging and pleading for sleep. Just don't think about it right now...

Monika glanced about dully, at what seemed to be the only tiled floors or walls, filthy with grime and dirt and who knew what else. The ceiling bulb, although much more helpful than their previous light source, cast an ugly glare on everything in it's reach. The flicker was only vaguely problematic at the moment, aggravating more their concentration than their line of vision. Monika had, at one time as a sixteen-year-old girl, dared venture into the nefarious confines of a gas station bathroom. That restroom, and only that restroom was the only instance she could think of that came close to the same reaction of disgust she was having now.

The cleanest, least dysfunctional things in the room seemed to be the two of them, so in an attempt to avoid preoccupation with all the sludge about them, Monika concentrated on the back of Trish's hoody for most of their hint hunting.

"Sorry..." Monika moved her gaze back down at her clumsy feet, embarrassed at having stepped on the heel of Trish's shoe for the third time in the past two minutes. "It's so dark in--..."

Dark?

Why was it dark?

"...in here..." She hadn't even noticed until now, the drastic contrast of lighting from now as opposed to how bright it originally was. It must have gradually dimmed with each flicker. Monika figured they had probably no longer than ten minutes or so. "The light's going out," she said in an almost amazed, unbelieving way.

Needless to say, the whole basement ordeal proved to be quite a disappointment, bearing only the rewards of dirty shoes, an old, cracked lighter they found almost underneath one of the whistling tanks in the boiler room (working, surprisingly enough), and as an added bonus for Trish, sore heels.

Monika blinked dully and gave her friend a confused look. "Did you just whisper something?"

Trish gave Monika a look of confusion at the question, but her ears picked up something that time.

It _was_ like a whisper... a whisper of a human that was too far off and mumbling so that you couldn't understand a word of it.

She kept her concentration up, holding an arm out in front of Monika to keep her still and silent, not wanting to bring attention to themselves or miss out of figuring out who or what was maybe down there with them now. Another. But no more knowledge came from it--until there was a small _clack_ against the tiles, so far back as towards the stairs.

It truly had gotten darker; the light was beginning to fizzle and it was too hard to see, from their distance, just what was standing in front of the steps from around the corner.

Flick.

Flick.

Dead.

The light stopped entirely and Trish whipped the cell phone out faster than she could blink, opening it up and shining it down the hall. There didn't appear to be anything there, until yet another whisper graced their ears, followed promptly by a low, gravely sounding snarl. It was a sound reminiscent of some one trying to gather enough saliva for a spit mixed with an old, grumbling dog and the muddled whispers they had been hearing before. To add to the delightfulness of the sound, there seemed to be a small dripping noise that got less and less confined, as if moving into the open hallway.

What came from the shadows into the small square of dim light did, indeed, appear to be a dog; a large, thin, stray, beat up dog with a torn neck (which appeared to be wrapped in a collar either made of chains or barbed wire) and a wide open mouth. Its face wasn't turned directly to them, more so looking at the beam of light as it glowed from the wall.

There was a noticeable foam around the dog's mouth which triggered one thought in Trish's mind immediately.

Rabies.

Slowly it turned, and as if a cue, the light from the cell phone blinked off and Trish had to press a button on it quickly for it to resume illuminating their way.

Its face was bloody, most of it dried into the fur it seemed, and it all looked as though it was coming from its eyes, which were too covered in the stuff to see what exactly the problem was with it. Now that she could see a bit better, squinting a little to help, the barbed wire from the collar twisted up and pierced through the sides of its mouth, bringing it up into a frightening Joker-like smile, showing off some of the most horrific teeth she had ever seen on a dog.

More like shark's teeth.

The fur and skin around its neck was peeling, and as it stepped further into the hallway, moving slowly, almost slinking over, it became apparent that, actually, a great deal of its skin was peeling off, almost like ribbons.

What had this dog gone through?

That sound again, it tilted its head a little, looking like it was attempting to snap its jaws at them but to no avail and just uttered a gurgling growl that sent chills up their spines. For each step the dog took, they took two back until they were up against the wall of the alcove. It limped towards them with reserved intensity, getting closer and closer until there was only one thing to do.

Slowly, very slowly, Trish moved the cell phone across herself, into the other hand, and held it in front of Monika for her to take. The dog's head followed the cell phone, as if the light were its true objective, and as it seemed distracted, Trish sped up a bit, pulling out her gun and aiming carefully, right at the side of its head.

_BANG._

The beast staggered and fell to the floor with a noise so similar to a man vomiting that Trish gagged herself. It writhed and kicked and tried to bring itself back up despite the bullet in its skull and the river of blood beginning to surround its upper section. She crept closer and chanced another shot, this one at the ribs. At the heart.

Weaker, though its legs still moved about, twitching, convulsing. In a fit of fear and anger Trish let loose a rough kick to the top of its skull and, with another vomiting yelp, it ceased movement.

Monika's mouth hung open in a rounded triangle of a gape. Dead. One instance she was going to be eaten by a dog, and the next Trish was kicking it in the head. Try as she might (although at the moment, she wasn't trying very hard), Monika couldn't remember exactly what happened.

Just one more thought:_ I'm going to die. _And the noise. That awful wheezing underlaid with people's voices--people's _whispers_--at first, then the gagging.

Then nothing. Dead as a doornail. In it's own grotesque way, it was already dead--dying, at any rate. The two bullets and sharp kick merely eased it along it's full way. Monika closed her eyes, not wanting to see anything at all. Not the dog; not Trish's brutality toward it; not even the dark.

"Trish," her voice came up suddenly, as if she herself were about to throw up. "W-we... let's leave. Please, let's leave, Trish, I hate it here. Please."

The dog was the last straw for the both of them. Ian or not, they weren't about to put their lives on a thinner, less reliable line than it already was. Or so they thought.

It was Trish, ever-keen and ever-aware who had noticed it first. A huge raw, leather tarp hanging tautly across the wall the Murmur had just backed them up against not a minute earlier; or rather, they were almost absolutely sure it had been a wall. The it seemed to drape closer to the top (the actual top was invisible to the limited lighting of the phone screen) in a way that suggested that there was no hard surface at all behind the material.

And unlike everything else they had found so far in the basement, it was not flimsy, and not teetering on the edge of ceasing to exist. In actuality, the thing was quite strong, and quite rooted in it's place.

This obstacle, of course, was perfect fuel for Trish's curiosity and her previous mutuality of leaving Brookhaven, not thirty seconds since it had been promised, flickered and snubbed out, just like the basement light.

After some more half-hearted protesting on Monika's end, she finally gave up in frustration, instead giving her pounding heart a chance to relax while watching tiredly as her friend attempted to battle the seemingly invincible tarp.

Trish tried ripping it, scratching it, pulling it, and even setting fire to it, all to absolutely no avail. The lighter had left a little black mark on the smooth surface, but the flame died too quickly to do any extensive damage.

It only took them an impressive eight minutes or so to put one and one together, and finally recognize the Oxydol's purpose. Fire needed oxygen to survive, and as a nurse, Monika knew that their 'medical alcohol' did, in fact, produce oxygen when applied to an open wound.

Only, they had no open wounds readily available.

The dog would have to do.


	5. Precursor

"No turning back now... It's not exactly like we would be able to find our way back to the Inn, anyway. Who knows how dark it's gotten outside..." Trish mused aloud, mostly to reassure herself as she pocketed the lighter and walked back over to the body, examining it with a mortified look.

It was the only way.

She pulled her sleeves down so they were covering her hands, not wanting to touch the carcass of the rabies infested and bleeding dog; a push here, a shove there, and the occasional roll, finally the body was set just in front of the tarp. It confused her deeply how they hadn't noticed it before. When the dog was closing in and they were against it she had remembered feeling tile against her back, but now...

She must have imagined it. Not paid enough attention, looking too closely for a letter and then too preoccupied with the dog that her mind just totally blocked the texture out.

Yes, that must have been it.

"Okay..."

Trish allowed her sleeves to return to their normal positions, though now they were slathered with blood. At least it was a dark fabric.

She turned to Monika, holding a hand out for the brown bottle they had procured as Ian had supposedly instructed. As it was handed to her a thought struck: He had known.

He had known that they would need the Oxydol. He had known that there would be something dead or wounded in the near future for them to use it on. And he had known that they would have to get past this tarp...

_Maybe I haven't been giving him enough credit..._

It truly was a frightening thought that a person of such a level of insanity that they had to be institutionalized was as smart as he, able to lead them around in such an involved game and, most probably, set this up. He had to have set it up. They found the lighter, he probably planted it. He had most likely cut the power. And he had most likely lead the dog in and... did this to it...

A sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach as she stood up and twisted off the white cap, being met with the strong smell of alcohol. She paused for a moment, contemplating.

Perhaps they should just stop now. Camp out on the roof or something like that.

As she tried to decide what was the better option, her hand relaxed and there was a sudden drop in the bottle's weight followed promptly by a splash and a hiss as the alcohol escaped onto the animal's wounds.

Too late now.

Trish turned the bottle over and poured most of it on, the hissing growing louder as more and more was released, a white cloud rising up from it as the oxygen it was so named for was created.

The slices and cuts and peeling skin on the dog foamed up and she pulled out the lighter, holding it inside the oxygen cloud and close to the leather tarp. Soon enough the fire jumped from its holding and began consuming the tarp, spreading outwardly almost in a circle from that one origin point, turning the bottom to wrinkled ash and curling up the rest of it on the top.

It didn't take very long for the Oxydol to cease its functioning, and the fire, too, began to dull as it neared the very top against the ceiling, causing what was left of the tarp to crumple and fall on top of the dog.

What was beneath was nothing they could have expected.

The corner tiles on the wall where this one started abruptly ended, revealing the wooden planks beneath it that were now or had been horribly burnt and charred, nearly blackened. And further in the middle, still, was a large hole, too dark to see anything through, but there was a definite breeze coming from it, small as it was.

An exit.

Monika's thoughts, although just as troubled as Trish's, did not dare stray to actually attempting to contemplate Ian and why he did what he did. Right now, she was concentrating more on her speech. What she could say that would let him know that what he was doing was wrong, yet wouldn't upset the man to the point of violence even Margaret admitted he was prone to.

Monika didn't budge. She was not about to go venture into the depths of some underground hole (they were in a basement after all) just to amuse Ian, or satisfy Trish. She was tired of compliance, and just tired in general.

Trish made a beckoning gesture with her arm, calling out excitedly. It's funny how a few simple words like 'exit' and 'breeze' could change a person's resolute mind so quickly. It didn't matter that it made absolutely no sense at all for there to be a hole out via an underground basement. It didn't matter why it was there. The only important thing, was that it led out.

As they shuffled through the inky dark, all but clinging to one another, Monika had to constantly remind herself that it was still likely too foggy, or dark, or whatever else to go back to the Inn. Still, a chance to move into fresh air--out of Brookhaven, practically--without risking the dinosaur elevator was in itself, a blessing.

_Ian, your letters were very nice, and I'm sure you're very nice, but I'm really not ready for the sort of commitment you seem to want me to make..._

They'd surely meet him eventually. Maybe even just up ahead, who knew? It was good to have something prepared at any moment.

She imagined him waiting just outside the passage. Maybe a little to the side of the very glow they were heading for. The light at the end of the tunnel. Wasn't that supposed to symbolize journeying to one's own demise?

_Shut up, Monika. You're worrying yourself for nothing._

And it was true. There was nothing to worry about, neither at the end of, or anywhere close to the tunnel's exit. Nothing at all, besides an alley, guarded on either side by buildings Monika didn't even bother getting her hopes up about attempting to climb. Like a Brookhaven corridor, but without a ceiling, and with a bit of trash and old paper here and there to break up the monotone of ground and walls. The only truly distinctive mile mark along the turn-ridden alley was a large, bright red spatter across one side, suspiciously blood-like.

Further along, they came to a portion of the pass, obstructed with an unlocked chain link fence. Yet again, Ian proved to have acknowledged even this step in their little adventure, and had gently rolled his next note so it would fit in one of the gate's diamond holes.

_I don't know..._

_This might not have been a good idea._

_Tomorrow might have been better._

_I've just got a bad feeling--_

Monika and Trish very nearly jumped right out of their skin at a very sudden and unexpected interruption. The sound of a siren, air-raid style, blaired loudly though the air above them, seeming to come from nowhere in particular with the echo. What it could possibly be blazoning, Monika hadn't the slightest idea, but she was sure of one thing. A sounded alarm meant people.

Trish let out a muted sigh when a similar thought struck her.

People.

The siren meant people.

This town wasn't abandoned after all!

Currently she felt like she was going crazy, though; they had just walked through the darkest hole in the wall they had every seen, and after a little while.. they ended up outside? In an alley? A bloody alley, at that, but the blood looked old.

_Decades_ old.

It had begun to peel itself from the pavement as well as the stone wall.

Maybe she was going crazy... or all of this stress was just making her imagine things. Yes, she put it up to that and they were probably just in some other old crawlspace or something that they had sealed up haphazardly in an attempt to keep people out but not fully lose track of it.

Or something to that effect.

Once the siren died down, blaring out three long _WRRRR'_s she plucked the letter from Monika's hands and read over it herself.

_I don't know..._

_This might not have been a good idea._

_Tomorrow might have been better._

_I've just got a bad feeling... but I know you're alright. I know you're close and you'll be here soon._

_...But if anything goes wrong... you run, Monika. You get out of this hospital and you get out of this town._

Trish didn't like the sound of this one bit.

Now he was having regrets? After they had stuck their necks out in dangerous low visible conditions, nearly got attacked by a dog infected with rabies, and were now suffering from some kind of stress or sleep disorder?

What a bastard.

But his concern for Monika was even more worrying.

What was he really having second thoughts on?

_Tomorrow might have been better_.

Why? Surely not simply from a case of cold feet. It appeared to Trish that Ian was actually distressed by something.

Confused but not wanting to dwell on it much longer, she handed the letter back to Monika for her own review and gazed around; past the gate were other papers of the same color and texture strewn about, all of them either ripped, wrinkled or crumpled. From what she could see, as well, the crumpled ones seemed to just have one large word written on the insides of them, one of which had unrolled some time before their approach and had a dark 'NO' scraped on to the sheet in what appeared to be charcoal.

Trish gave Monika a slightly worried glance and was meant back with one from her friend. They had still decided.

There was no turning back now.

She stepped forward and opened the small, waist-high gate, waiting for Monika to pass through after her before moving on. The slam of it closing behind them without either of them making a visible move to do so was unsettling, but that was probably what the hinge was made for--it had been slightly hard to budge.

As their trek down the alley continued it got steadily darker, like when they had entered, making the hairs on the back of their necks stand up and, once again, they were very nearly clinging to one another as they reached an end.

Right where they had begun.

"Wh-... what?"

"But we were... we just came from here?" Monika's intonation was that of a question. It was all very incredibly confusing.

After walking across to the opposite side of the alley the opening in the tarp had led them to, they had emerged from the very place they exited. It was as if the alley had gone around in one big circle, but Monika was sure both her coming and leaving the two passages involved only one path. Not once had they encountered a fork, or any sort of choice between paths. Straight through. Just straight through.

_Something's wrong with this place._

It wasn't a matter anymore of an irrational fear of the dark, or edginess. Brookhaven's physical form and being had shifted already on several occasions, this being by far, the strangest and most obvious. If that wasn't the case, then she and Trish were both having the same hallucinations.

Either choice was not good for two woman in an asylum infested with rabid dogs and insane stalkers. The horrible part was not knowing if any of it was real, or all sleep-deprivation originated figments. "How--"

Monika blinked. It had finally occurred to her, now that she was looking about, that the basement was very different than it had been when they had last been inside. Not a different basement. It was clearly the same basement.

It was a _fuller_ basement. One that reflected, not the white glare of a cell phone light, but red. Some dark, some vibrant, and all very definitely blood. _This much blood from one dog? _Maybe it wasn't completely dead. Perhaps it had gotten up and limped about in their short absence, but still...

This much blood?

Monika, still in possession of the phone, made a slow sweeping motion across the disturbing scene. Her stare grew more and more moritifed as she passed, starting from her right and moving left, uncovering several broken wheelchairs, shattered glass littering the floors, and yet more blood. Blood and meat. Something was here, and it had a temper. Monika was beginning to feel a little queasy, and yet her arm still swung around until it had illuminated every side of the room.

Her mistake.

The very last thing she saw would surely give her nightmares for a week. Be it real, or something she never could have suspected her mind to produce even in such a state as this, it was most assuredly the most disturbing thing she'd ever seen.

Corpses. Four of them, decaying and piled carelessly atop one another, genocide style. The blood hadn't come from one dog, but rather four people. Monika stifled a gag, but something else caught her eye just above the gory pile.

A foot.

Up and up the light went, Monika's heartbeat pounding faster as the foot turned out to be attached to a leg, and that leg to a full body. A dead body hanging from a fence, hands skewered in a way that make them look like anything but human hands. The shoulders and head, not attached to anything, leaned forward limply.

When Monika had finally lifted the phone high enough to see the horrible grinning face just a yard above their heads, her heart fluttered. The two women gave simultaneous shrieks, as loud as their vocal chords could manage, stumbling backward away from the mock crucified carcass. Purely reaction got them into the elevator, and with shaky hands, Trish stabbed at the 'close door' button.

With surprising speed for a mechanic so ancient, the cage door at the front slammed to a startling close, prompting another scream from Monika, which soon withered to a sob. She had thrown up after all.

Trish's hand went wild as she heard Monika convulse and retch, smashing against the panel only to realize in horror, seconds later, what button she had pressed.

B3.

That button hadn't been there before.

"Third Basement?!"

Like so many other occurrences, her words were like a cue and the caged elevator that they were now inside plummeted with a sickening speed, scraping and sparking along the walls like it wasn't even attached to a cable and was descending solely on the basis of gravity.

Before it slowed to a stop Trish had leaned down on the floor by Monika and clung to her, trying to bring comfort to them both simultaneously.

It wasn't working.

With a dull thump the elevator stopped, landed rather, and the cage lifted itself back up before the doors opened, revealing a very dimly lit room.

The ceiling was high, too high to see its actual location, it all just looked black beyond the single hanging light right in the center that was so covered in rust and blood just like the walls and floor that it, too, cast a disturbing red glow upon everything. The room was empty, however. Devoid of anything at all, save for one steel, rust encrusted door on the wall to their far left.

It was their only option, and Trish hoped so much that it would lead to another stair well and that it would allow them, then, to leave this horrible place, whether it was real or not.

They needed to get out of here, and escape route or not, it was the only chance they had.

She stood up, tugging Monika to a stand as gently as possible given their situation and kept a tight hold of her upper arm, moving through the large. Upon closer inspection she noted that the walls were actually comprised of rusted metal gates, like what the body before was attached to, and the floor was a disgusting mess of bloody linoleum and burnt wood that still held the smell.

Careful as ever, Trish pulled the gun from its hiding place and held it in front of her, moving so Monika was behind, and with a great amount of effort pulled the metal door open. Oddly this one seemed well oiled as nary a sound escaped it, and when their eyes fell on what was before them.

Bloody gurneys and autopsy tables all moved about, IVs just standing at an angle, only kept up by the tables they were resting against, all sorts of blood soaked medical equipment. And them.

Two men; one was strapped straight to a horribly bloody table with a cloth covering a certain lower region, as well as having a gag tied around his mouth. The other was standing over him in a black robe complete with a hood to cover his face, holding up a bone saw. The one on the table lifted his head, staring at the two girls which prompted the other to do the same. In one quick motion Trish aimed and fired at the man's leg.

It had to have been that bastard, Ian!

What a sick fuck, setting all of this up, mutilating a dog that was still alive, and now ready to kill another man! He would probably have done the same to Monika if they had given him the chance, but that seemed to end as he limped quickly away and out a second door on the opposite side of the room before they had an oppertunity to pursue him. Quickly they rushed over to the man and realized that the blood on the table was actually his own; his knees had been beaten until they were bloody, skin scraped away from quite a few layers; there was a nasty gash along the left side of his chest, going diagonally across his ribs; and his face... a black eye, a popped blood vessel, and it looked as though he had received a few good punches to the mouth.

He looked distressed, naturally, but his eyes weren't on the both of them as he squirmed to get out of his bindings, groaning behind the gag.

Just Monika.

As soon as who she suspected must have been the very charming Ian Scarlet had fled, Monika made a weak jog toward the man on the table. Her vision blurred for just a moment, but without slowing down—speeding up if anything—Monika crudely wiped at her face, dragging the moisture collecting at her lower lid across her face, rather than drying it off.

The tears weren't for the wounded madman, but this poor man he'd obviously just been in the middle of mutilating. An innocent human being, with apparently the worst luck of the three of them, as he'd been the one to find Ian first.

"Trish, keep watching the door in case he comes back." her voice sounded...in control, almost. She would have enjoyed her rare act of assertive behavior more if it weren't for the current predicament.

Her focus turned immediately to the victim, bloodied and nearly completely naked. "I'm a nurse, I can help you."

Her hands immediately began working at the leather restraining straps, managing to unclip the tightly fastened belt clips relatively easily with her newborn stamina and sense of emergency. She noted just vaguely as she began at the second of the straps that he kept his eyes on her all the while she worked, but figured she could dismiss and forgive such an odd stare, knowing what he must have gone through.

Two or three times as she worked at freeing him, she felt a sort of hiccup build in the lower part of her throat, threatening to choke up as a sob. Monika had to close her eyes and bite her bottom lip for just a moment as the feeling passed, knowing full well that she'd do no one any good right now by breaking down.

_Just another operation. A regular case of blood loss,_ she tried to continuously remind herself.

But alas, it wasn't the sight of blood and body that distressed her, but rather the thought of herself going through this. Of her or Trish taking the place of this horribly-treated stranger, but unlike him, with no saviors. The death of a stupid gullible girl and her kind-intentioned friend.

"I'm so sorry..." after the final belt had been removed, Monika gave an uneasy glance toward the alternative exit Ian had just disappeared through. Her fingers moved up to the gag, attempting to tear it enough to just rip the fabric. "I'm so sorry... that man... he was waiting for me. He was trying to do this to me..."

She shook her head slowly, all this stress giving her quite a headache. "Ian Scarlet..." she said it with a sort of deep-rooted hatred. A rightful hatred at the man who had put them through so much all at once and without warning. "That's who attacked you... he used to be a patient here."

_Fffft._ With only a few threads left to hold the filthy material together, Monika gave a sharp tug that snapped those too let her hands drop back to her sides, turning her gaze down to the vigorously growing red pool at her feet for a moment...


	6. Ian Scarlet

The man let out a huff when the gag was removed, breathing quickly and resting his head back in a small pool of his own blood that had gathered from his mouth. Coughs came swift and rough, a few more blood spatters coated around his mouth, some managing to get enough distance to land on his neck.

He was a very pale man, especially in the current lighting he almost looked stark white, though that could have been attributed to the blood loss; dark auburn hair covered his head messily and where it was wet from the blood it stuck up slightly. It was parted on the left side, more hair on the right of his head in the front and the rest just in front of his left ear. It was hard to tell in a room so dark but his eyes appeared to be a rich olive color with a hazel ring around the pupil; rather nice to look at.

After his breathing calmed and he opened his eyes up again, he stared at Monika, looking calmer. He rarely blinked, probably waiting just until his eyes could no longer take the strain and doing so once only to make them stop stinging for moisture. A frail body, he couldn't have been any older than mid-twenties.

His mouth opened and stayed that way momentarily, until he was certain Monika's eyes were on his own, and finally he spoke.

"I told you to run..."

Trish took a step back from the table, staring first at him, and then at the door Ian had gone through.

No.

That couldn't be... that didn't make any sense at all!

"You-... you can't... be... I shot him!"

As she tried to piece what exactly had just occurred she felt herself reel a bit and she backed up to the wall to keep herself steady and upright, arm with the gun hanging limply at her side until she realized and brought it up immediately, pointing at the man on the gurney, shaking her head slowly.

He sat up, holding his head a little as he was struck with a sudden case of dizziness but it quickly subsided and he ignored Trish, not even bothering to give her a second glance. His attention was solely on Monika, but his expression wasn't exactly happy... more worried.

"I told you to run... You shouldn't have had to see this darkness."

_I told you to run..._

_I shot him!_

Monika was not as immediately intuitive to the situation as her friend was, and for a moment, stared dumbly at the man as he sat himself up. Her mouth opened a little, wanting to say something else, but she could not for the life of her think of what it might be while that grim stare was perpetually on her.

Her breath caught.

I told you.

_Told me?_

Without even willing herself to do so, Monika's legs had begun making slow motions back. Back away from the mysterious unclothed man with the intense expression.

"...You're Ian..." The way it sounded out loud gave Monika's stomach a sudden sensation of being gripped. Her eyes widened into a terrible expression of panic, her face frozen rigid.

The initial shock was not long-lasting however, and her numb inching shuffle sped into a backward walk, and then a scramble. A step onto a bit of fresher blood sent Monika's left foot streaking forward and up, flailing a second in the air before falling hard onto the concrete ground along with the rest of her body.

Another moment of temporary paralysis as the shock of the fall passed over, before her instincts had kicked back in, sending her back into a mad reverse-crawl. Her palms, back, and seat were nearly entirely stained with Ian's lost blood by the time she had cornered herself against a wall. Even then, her defiant soles pushed unacceptantly into the floor, trying to back further out of the morgue than it's confines would allow.

He frowned, more of a pout, really, staring at her with those eyes rounded with dark purple circles; the right was still darker, of course, that one having been most obviously abused, but the others seemed natural... like he had intense bags. As if he had never slept a wink in his life.

As Monika backed up he tensed slightly, and nearly jumped to a stand when she fell right over but gripped the cloth covering his nether regions instead, prompting him to feverishly ask if she was okay but stopped himself halfway through when she began crawling back away from him, giving him that pouting frown again. Another pause as he opened his mouth, as if he were trying to find the perfect words.

"...I'm sorry... I didn't mean... for you to get stuck in all of this, too." Ian kept his voice low, letting his eyes wander from Monika for the first time since they had entered, following the red trail she had painted across the floor all the way back to himself and he lifted a hand, palm also covered in red, "Or to see... any of this..."

"Then why did you coax her here?! You told her to come..." a sudden thought and Trish steadied her hand, suddenly becoming very stiff and guarded while aiming straight at his face, "Who was that man, then?!"

He offered a shrug as an explanation.

"Could... you two turn around, please? My clothes are right over there," he motioned with his head to the left where there was a slightly cleaner gurney with a black t-shirt, purple and blue striped long sleeved one, some acid washed jeans and white and black sneakers.

Trish narrowed her eyes at him, glancing only for a second to Monika on the floor next to her before easing up a bit, "I'll have this gun pointed... I hear anything funny, don't think I won't hesitate to shoot."

Another shrug, this one a bit less bothered, or so it looked from his expression which had gone from being stoic to vaguely amused. Once the girls were turned or covered their eyes Ian stood up, shuddering when his bare feet touched the cold, blood covered tiles. He grabbed the cloth, sitting up on the gurney with his clothes and wiped his feet off before pulling socks out of the shoes, and then the jeans, which stung his knees greatly as he pulled them over but they were loose, Monika could still treat them up easily if she was so inclined; first the striped shirt, and then the tee, which had a white skull and cross bones design over laid by the image of an hour glass.

It wasn't obvious until then, but there was something around his neck which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be a wrist watch. Too small, of course, to go all the way around, the back was tied up with string and the face of the clock was right in the center of his neck reading the time of three o'clock.

He told them it was alright as he began tying one of his shoes, taking his time to be sure that they were good and tight before letting himself slide off the side of the bed and look over at them. The knees of his pants were already beginning to soak up the blood, getting dark brown stains over them. The shirt, too, was getting wet from the bloody gash along his side, but not to the same extent.

The gripping feeling in Monika's stomach didn't go away. If anything, having Ian out of her sight for even the short period of time it had taken for him to get dressed had only fueled it to an almost sickened feeling, like her insides were being pulled inward by some invisible, ravenous force. The sort of nervous feeling she commonly got when apprehending something horrible.

So this was the infamous Ian Scarlet, who had so stringently and patiently held his passion for a woman he had never met outside random snatches of her life's account. Her pitifully sober Ian, bare and marred and vulnerable and real. A real living, breathing person who's life had seemed constantly turned for the worse. Not a persona.

Just an Ian.

Monika lifted her head from her hands, attempting to blink away the feeling of puffiness from having her eyes squeezed shut so tightly. True to his word, he hadn't done anything at all more than dress himself. His blood had already soaked through several parts of his clothing. It was obvious that the abuse he'd taken was severe, and stalker or not, it would be Monika's duty later to treat him if no one else could be found. She wasn't looking forward to that.

"Did you know this was going to happen?" her voice was broken and just a bit wheezy, coming up from such tensed vocal chords. It sounded like she had a soar throat.

_Did you plan this, Ian? Did you lure me into this?_

He took a few steps to test himself, holding onto the railing of the gurney he had just been sitting on, and immediately he grimaced, glaring down at his knees that stung so terribly from the simple movement.

It was bad...

Monika's voice broke his concentration and he looked up, blankly at first but it turned to a look of pity soon after, and then shifted to berated sorrow. Like she had just yelled at him in such a nasty way with those few teary words. All he could do at first was shake his head and look at the floor but finally a vocal response came.

"No... Monika... I just... wanted to meet you. See you. It.." he took a breath and straightened up, trying not to look so pathetic, "The situation... got out of my control. I'm sorry. Another day... really would have been better."

Let alone the fact that, on a day past this one, he would probably just be another corpse littering the hospital thanks to that man from before.

"Don't screw with us," Trish still had her gun pointed at him with one hand, the other held out towards Monika to help her up from the floor should she feel so inclined, "Just what are you playing at? You mean to tell us that this whole scavenger hunt thing wasn't set up by you at all?"

"...Scavenger hunt?" he seemed almost mortified by the statement.

"The notes! All of them just scattered around the hospital for us to find! You didn't set that up?"

"I don't... know what you're talking about."

Monika caught the hand movement in her peripheral vision, and made a shaky grab for her friend's outstretched hand, using it to slowly pull herself to her feet as Ian spoke. Her eyes were on him all the time she was standing up, and quite a long while after that.

"Y-you...? You can't remember the letters?" Monika blinked dumbly.

Impossible.

The only feasible explanation that didn't make Ian sound prematurely senile, was that the other man had written them. All the clues and hints, arranging them in perfect synchronization of all the situations they had encountered. Anybody could, after all, write some strange letters and slap a false name on the bottom.

Still, something nagged at the back of Monika's mind. The matter of handwriting. It had seemed to be the same scratchy penmanship she had seen on her first three letters--the ones she had received while she was still in Ashfield. The same hurried strokes that made everything written in it seem gravely urgent.

There was nothing they could do. Monika was sure that this Ian either genuinely hadn't the faintest clue of what they were talking about, or was trying to convince himself that he didn't. With nothing else to lose, she pulled a note at random from her pocket, stored along the trip.

And she read.

"I never asked before, since that day.

Did you get the gift I gave you on Valentines--"

Monika's voice faltered (although it was quite weak to begin with). With some awkwardness, she continued:

"--on V-Valentines Day?

It was a heart shaped box.

I made it myself in the 'crafts' portion of the day.

It gives us something to do with our hands, as well as occupies most of us so the orderlies don't need to pay as much attention.

Inside was something important.

Inside it's insides.

That's where it is.

I'm so glad you came, Monika."

Her pupils flitted upward, so she glanced up at Ian through her bangs. After a quiet sigh:

"Waiting to see you,

Ian"

The words she read appeared to surprise him greatly, as if there was a great sense of familiarity that _shouldn't _have been present but he couldn't deny it. Ian took a light step back from them but held tightly to the rail of the gurney, staring fiercely at his own feet while trying to find words.

Just as Trish opened her mouth to give some sort of remark he spoke up again, "I didn't write that... but..." he couldn't seem to find the right words for whatever continued sentence he was trying to say, which just made the cop angrier.

"But what?"

It looked as though he didn't believe they would understand, that they would think him a liar. Probably a fair assumption; "But... it was in my head." As if a further explanation was needed he brought his free hand up and tugged a bit of his hair lightly, just resting it on the side afterwards.

An abrupt look up at them, wide eyed suddenly stopped all questions Trish had and she steadied her gun on him again, but he didn't move.

"We have to go. We have to get out of here _now_. If it changes..." he glanced up at the ceiling, appearing very concerned, "Then our graves are dug..."

Monika was very much unnerved by Ian's sudden shift in attitude. He had literally gone from confused and contemplative to frantic in the matter of a second or two.

She exchanged a sidelong glance with Trish. The look lingered for a moment, and once again, Monika felt it her nursely duty to do something about all of this, instead of just watching it happen. With her attention turned back to Ian, she took a cautious step forward.

"Ian," she felt strange, addressing him by his first name.

"Look, _both of us_ understand that what you've been through is perhaps a little stressful..." Monika took pains to emphasize 'both of us', hoping that Trish would understand the insinuation. "And sometimes, stress can get to be just a little too much for someone to handle, and it comes out as... well, you might say things that sound a little absurd to the people around you, and maybe even yourself."

"We really need to all calm down here, and get you to someplace where you can be treated for your--..." Monika hesitated. She didn't want to say 'dementia', exactly. "...--for your injuries. And get rest."

She offered a forced smile, intended to be somewhat comforting. Monika hoped it was working on the receiving end, since she herself, was certainly not calmed by it. "Alright, Ian?"

He nodded quickly, finally letting go of the rail and approached them, not too close in case Trish decided to become trigger happy, "Yes, but you're not understanding me... We have to get out of this hospital. Monika, please... _Please_. Both of you just get on the elevator with me so we can go to the ground floor. Once we're out, I'll..." Ian dropped his hands to his sides, sighing as if he had been defeated, "I'll do whatever you tell me."

That seemed to be a pretty good deal to Trish; she wanted out of this place more than anything else right then, and as an added bonus he would shut up and do anything they said. Maybe he could be useful that way...

She glanced over at Monika, figuring that going with Ian at the moment was the only way he would cooperate.

"...Fine."

Her eyes moved momentarily towards the door the other man had fled through earlier, wondering absently whether or not they should have taken a chance to pursue him, but decided against it and lowered her weapon, hiding it back beneath her waist band, "Lead on, then," she waved a sarcastic hand towards the door behind them.

Ian nodded again, quick as before and lightly walked past them, opening up the heavy door again with a helpful shove of his shoulder and holding it open for the two of them before continuing through the wide dark room. With adjusted eyes it was obvious on the floor that there were skidded wheel marks, but no signs of what made them.

He tapped quickly at the button until the doors opened, moving to the side with the button panel. The three of them jumped when the cage slammed down in front of them again, though Ian made more of a twitch, as if he were used to it. Pressing button 'one' he sighed, resting back against the side of the elevator and closing his eyes after it began ascending.

Luckily for Monika and Trish, Ian seemed to have, for the second time since they'd met him, fulfilled what little bit of reliance they had so far instilled in him. Still, not ones to hand out their trust so easily, the two did stand at the corner of the elevator opposite Ian's, Monika pressed against the wall behind Trish.

Monika rested her head lightly back against the frigid metal of the elevator walls, the unexpected slam giving her a weak, fluttering feeling in the left half of her chest.

_I'll do whatever you tell me._

It was at least one consolation, although Monika probably didn't appreciate it as much as her slightly more malevolent friend. What exactly could he do for them? Magically lift all this godforsaken fog? Call a nonexistant cab to drive them back to Ashfield and even pay fo the journey?

No, and no.

Monika didn't like this one bit. Not for a second. Monika could probably recall a dozen stories she'd heard on the news of women and girls who decided to follow strangers. There was one of two worst case scenarios for hapless females like that:

_Getting killed, or getting ra--_

A sudden screech of grinding metal stabbed through the previous almost-silence, which resulted from the wincing or covering of ears of the three. For just half a moment, the loud noise seemed to have been just that. A loud noise.

A second later, the ancient machine they were entrusting their both their transportation and lives in grumbled. The elevator no longer glided up through it's shaft, but rather groaned and shook like something just too old to keep going.

Monika had teetered and fallen back against the corner she was standing in at what seemed to be the most climatic and violent portion of the malfunction, and noted quite excitedly: "The elevator's slowing down!"

Her announcement was unnecessary. Just as the word 'slowing' left her lips, the metal mechanisms gave several final creaks of stress, followed by a muted bang.

It did slow down.

Slowed to a stop.


	7. B1

Ian had pushed himself away from the gated wall as soon as the screech went off, staring first at the floor and then above them, fists clenched. Trish had done similarly but was looking to the front,

The elevator had stopped itself halfway beneath a set of doors that did not appear to be the ones for the ground floor.

Ian leaned over towards the right, trying to press his face against the caged walls and see below them. Just the tiniest amount of space let him see that there were two doors and the floor below them.

No, this wasn't the ground floor at all.

This was the First Basement.

"Shit..." Trish let out a subsequent flurry of curses, beginning to pace around in a small circle, hands over her eyes. This was not good, even if whatever nonsense he was talking about was attributed solely to dementia, they still _needed_ to get out of this place. If they could open the doors some how then they could still find a way out, up to the ground floor anyway, but they didn't seem to be registering their half-presence at that time.

"Well what now?" it was clear she was flustered, slamming herself against the wall next to Monika just to grimace right after from the bars.

It took Ian some time to reply; he stood at the front, just in front of the gate, examining it closely, shaking the bars, trying more buttons, all to no avail.

"I think the doors work together... the gate closes right after the doors, and it lifts again when they open. If we can bring the gate up, then... maybe..."

Then maybe the doors would open to.

The three of them exchanged glances.

"S-so what you're saying," Monika began, her voice slow and unsure.

She pushed herself up against the corner she was still leaned against, and sauntered over to have her own look through the gate in question. She took cares to stand a good three or four feet on the other side of where Ian was.

She had Trish here, if he tried anything.

"You're saying that if we--" Monika cut herself off to illustrate as she spoke, looping her fingers around one of the large bars. "--lift this--" which was accompanied by the sound of a very heavy gate making vain a very small person's attempts to lift it up. "--nngh. You think those doors will just automatically open?"

Monika turned herself about so she was looking to her right at Ian, while still keeping a her grip.

He watched her curiously, a bit of hope glinting in his eyes that maybe she could open it. When it was obvious she couldn't alone he simply nodded, offering a small smile to her before looking back at the gate that was so like a prison door, positioning himself in front of it and grabbing hold of two of the bars, one in each hand, "I _think_ so... I'll need both of you to help get it started, though."

For the first time since their meeting he looked directly at Trish, only for a second to make sure she understood that all three of them were going to need to lift it at the same time.

"When we get it up and the doors open," speaking purely on the hope that they would, "Then the strongest of us needs to climb up first and hold onto the bars so they won't fall. Then the other two climb up one at a time... I'm thinking you're strongest, Miss...?" he pointed his index finger at Trish, tilting his head a little and giving a look like he didn't exactly want to know her name but he needed to all the same.

"_Officer_ Trish..." she stressed the officer portion, not wanting this crazy man to address her so informally as he did with Monika.

"Alright, then,_officer_, you get up first and hold the bars, then Monika, then me. Is that okay with everyone?" he glanced back and forth at the both of them, finally getting a nod from Trish as she walked over and stood between him and Monika, gripping the bars herself.

Three would be the cue.

The two women tensed themselves at the gate, waiting for the signal. Once they were all still, Ian began counting.

"One..."

One of Monika's index fingers twitched, in all her concentrated anticipation. That uncannily omnipresent calm of this man troubled her. She only just fully noticed it now as he counted.

"...Two..."

Whether it was true or not, her stalker certainly held a convincing air of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. _Come on Ian, get this over with._

_"...Three!"_

Simultaneous sounds of strain and effort immediately filled in where Ian's counting had left off. Much grunting and swearing ensued for what felt like a very very long time of no response. It appeared at first, that the gate door had, unlike the lift itself, been well built, and stayed put despite the combined efforts of three grown adults, frantic for their freedom.

The thought of impossiblity, although not spoken aloud, had passed through each Monika, Trish, and Ian's minds.

Impossible was not a matter of fact. It was a challenge.

A new groan was present. Louder than even their own, and coming from around them. A machine's groan, that seemed to assert it's right to complain more than any of them. The encouragement only drove the three of them further, and soon, a new sound was added: grinding metal.

About a minute's toil had gotten the gate's bottom up to as far as their arms could reach, and this was Trish's cue to quickly move out of their line and hoist herself up to the first basement floor. She had only a few seconds to regain her balance, turn around, and resume her hold on the defiant door, before Monika and Ian's strength would give way from the lack of manpower.

Failure to complete this mission would result very messily.

It was very good incentive.

After just a quarter of a minute more, Monika was up too.

Most of the cursing had flown from Trish's mouth and it was brought back anew as she and Ian were left to hold the gate up while Monika climbed up. Now it was just a manner of holding on until Ian was with them. He spared her a glance before letting go, trying to do so slowly so that she wouldn't burdened with the weight so suddenly. She cursed them along as Ian grabbed hold of Monika's hand, both pulling and pushing until he was finally up.

Trish couldn't hold on any longer; her grip faltered and the gate slammed down, prompting the doors to close as well. Both her and Ian jumped back, not wanting to lose any of their appendages.

Ian shuddered, standing with assistance from the wall, turning quickly to Monika and giving her one of his hands to pull her up. "We've got to keep moving... faster, now. We're losing time,"

It was all probably a mess of inane dribble about the time loss. What was he even talking about? All she knew was this place was messed up beyond all sanity and they needed to get out, she didn't care why aside from that. "Come on... there's gotta be... stairs or... something."

He nodded, straightening himself and rubbing the back of his neck. Apparently he had bumped it on the bottom bar of the gate while scaling up. His attention drifted off to the side for a moment, which aroused Trish's suspicions and she kept a hand on the pistol as he wandered past them, leaning down and plucking something off the wooden floor.

"What is that?" maybe she was being paranoid.

"Rebar," he muttered, turning and holding out the short metal scaffolding piece, a large chunk of cement curled around one end of it. "We'll be needing it... and that," he pointed to where her gun was with the new weapon.

Monika couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of urgency every time Ian brought up the matter of hurrying. Whatever he thought they were late for doing was putting him on edge, something she did not want to see from a generally collected person.

Real or imaginary, it had to be bad. Worse, actually.

Monika winced at Ian's careless pointing of the long metal rod. Out of the habitual motherliness she'd developed from her nursing occupation, she uttered a quick "Careful with that!" and turned her head to follow whatever he was motioning at.

Something suddenly occurred to her. "You think he'll find us?" she was talking about the older man from earlier, and gestured toward the now out of service elevator. _And after a shot to the leg?_He must've been quite resilient.

She looked around wearily. "I don't have anything to protect myself with..." Not that she was planning to entrust herself with Trish's and Ian's or even her own safeguarding. She'd leave that to the other two. Still, her lack of a basic means of self defense was distressing.

Ian promptly obeyed Monika's request, bringing the rebar down to his side and, with a simple shake of his head, responded to her question of the man.

"No. He's gone..." his grip increased on the metal pole and he turned to look down the hall in front of them. It was long, windowless, and at the end there was a serious lack of illumination, but on the wall to their right there was a yellow tinted bulb covered with similar rust and blood as was coating the rest of the floor. "There's other things in here..."

Trish didn't like how cryptic he was being. It was obvious he was hiding things, and she wasn't pleased with that. Their situation called for honesty and knowing as much as possible between each of them. "_What_ other things?"

Ian turned from them, staring blankly down the hall. For a few moments it just seemed as though he were thinking to himself and blocking Trish out entirely but that changed soon enough. "It's just down there... _Listen_."

They did.

At first to nothing but the buzz of the the solitary bulb.

And then scuffling.

_He's making you imagine things..._ Monika strained her ears in an attempt to unhear it. It seemed very secondary. A background noise of some sort, probably just enhanced with imagination. _Ian's just paranoid after what happened._

It was getting louder. Clearer. More sound than echo. A slow, uneven flop of footsteps, like someone trying to hurry, but not quite capable of it.

Instinctively, Monika back stepped her way behind Trish, trying to make herself as small as possible. She stole occasional peaks around her shielding friend, which grew more and more frequent as the stepping was soon accompanied by the rustle of clothes.

Whoever it was seemed to have been provoking their new 'guide', so Monika made no attempts to call out to them...it? She could only bring herself to watch with intense fascination as a figure slowly came into view. Something either in need of a chiropractor, or abnormal. To her surprise, it was another female.

A nurse. Or more accurately, she was dressed in attire distinctively nurse like. Even her outfit though, was as unconventionally grimy and unclean as the rest of her body, and Monika's relief proved itself to be very fleeting.

The shuffling hadn't stopped, even though the nurse had halted at a door at the far wall, her head bowed in a way that didn't allow the scant light to expose her face. The nurse was soon accompanied by another similar in appearance, and it occurred to Monika just how grotesquely bony their figures where. It might have been why they walked in such a twitched and spidery way.

"What happened to them?" Monika's voice was hardly more than an exhale of a whimper.

The two moved closer in their disturbingly unbalanced way; more minute features began to appear. Every move forward revealed more of themselves in the limited light, and Monika's expression grew more and more uneasy with every step.

They were smiling. Both of them, grinning like mad in a way that didn't make them seem very happy at all. As if their deeply wrinkled skin had been pulled back and fastened that way. Everything about them was unkempt. Clothes, hair, skin, body features. Several times as they moved, a glint would reflect off their skin, and upon closer inspection, Monika easily identified them as IV tubes...

Not attached to anything at all. Just the tubes. Running up along their limbs and a few areas of their faces, stained a brownish red on the inside. Monika's horrified gaze traveled up along a particularly long and aesy to spot tube that seemed to be originating from one's shoe, and followed it up with her eyes, past her shins and knees and then disappearing into...

Into a hole in her skin. "Wh-...?" All of them. Every tube that didn't duck under the cover of an article of clothing was the same. Pierced straight into one or the other's flesh.

"Who did this to you?!"

The first one replied with the raise of a bony arm. In her possessive grasp was a revolver.

Trish replied in kind, bringing out her pistol and aiming at the one in front of Monika. A moment of hesitation just before she cocked her gun and-- she was slammed against the wall.

It took her a moment to realize what happened but soon she saw Ian standing where the nurse had been, the cement on the end of the rebar soaked in blood that traveled in droplets on the floor to a large spatter point the shape of the woman's head on the opposite wall. Her body shuddered on the floor and she groaned as if she were trying to speak but didn't have a tongue with which to articulate.

She opened her mouth to say something to Monika but was interrupted by a squishy, cracking sound as Ian brought the cement-covered pole down against her head again. And again. And again, with a final swing upwards, slamming it against the other nurse's jaw.

She looked the same.

Both of the nurses looked exactly identical to one another, aside from IV placement and.. what were those... bullet holes? There was no blood, though. How... was that even possible?

"What are you..." she couldn't quite word just how disgusted she was into a single question just towards Ian. She wanted to know why they looked that way, why they decided it best to attack them and why on _earth_ was he being so naturally brutal?

...Right.

Crazy.

Once the second nurse was dealt with Ian stood back up and looked down at his weapon. Most of the cement had been chipped off, but there was still enough that it would be able to deal painful blows. It was soaked now, almost up to his hand in red liquid.

He surveyed the both of them, nudging the bent and rusted pipe the second nurse had with his foot and then examining the other one, tilting his head as if contemplating. It took a few seconds but Ian walked over and bent down, glaring harshly and the obviously dead nurse--it's skull effectively bashed in--and grabbed the revolver.

Just for a moment he put the rebar down and opened up the siding of it, nodding at the amount of bullets. All six. Closing it again he turned it around in his hand, holding the front while pushing it towards Monika.

"Is that good?"

Monika did not immediately take the weapon as Ian held it out. She barely glanced at it. Her eyes were fixed on the man himself, an unfaltering look of both shocked bewilderment and disbelief. She stood that way for a very long while, and after finally being able to bring herself out of her half-dazed state, let her stare crawl down Ian's shoulder and arm, to the weapon he held out at her.

She didn't even have to bother getting her agonizingly leaden reflexes to open her mouth to speak; she was still jaw-dropped from the gruesome show before. For a moment, the muscles around her neck tensed a little, like she was going to talk, but it came out as an involuntary, hardly audible squeak. Monika swallowed and tried again.

"Y...es...yes, it's fine."

Monika took the revolver from his hand, unaware that something so small and seemingly easy to maneuver would have weighed so much. She fumbled with it for a second, but caught it before it fell to the ground.

A gun. She was holding a gun that she could hurt people with. The thought of it made the object feel very foreign and forbidden in her grip. How on earth can I use this? The thought of hurting someone frightened her. It frightened her just watching Ian hurt even the two malicious nurses with about as much remorse as one would have over swatting a mosquito.

"We should go..."

Monika cast a brief look at Trish's direction, and attempted to mimic her friend's hand position on her own gun. It was quite uncomfortable.

Her reaction seemed to puzzle him as for every moment she stared at him like that he either tilted his head or furrowed his brow, eventually to the point of looking dreadfully concerned but it eased up a bit when she finally spoke and took the gun from him. Still he looked worried, lips just barely curling into a pout.

"How come... you're looking at me like that? Are you okay?"

He saw Trish tense out of the corner of his eye, looking back and forth between them.

"Let's just go... like Monika said," she added that to make Ian more inclined. If he didn't listen to her, surely he would accept coaxing from Monika. "Come on, you've got to lead. What happened to that rushing from before?"

That brought him out of his temporary stupor and Ian cast a second-long glance to Trish before turning to face the long hall again, beginning to move forward. There didn't seem to be any other light source down the hall, just the one bulb where they had come through.

Monika was for the first time, silently grateful for Ian's mysterious need to hustle and Trish's impatience, which had spared her having to answer his awkward question. She didn't feel placid talking to him, and preferred to avoid it as much as she could.

For now, they only had to walk. To get out of Brookhaven Hospital, before some horrible, unknown disaster was to arrive. And right that moment, the main objective could be simply accomplished with simply following Ian. He was obviously more conscience of the building's layout, and more importantly, the monstrosities that inhabited it, and this was their only reason for trusting him.

No one spoke at all. The mood had long since passed the possibility of being lightened with conversation, and extra noise was only a distraction. The three grew too accustomed to the sole din of only their own footsteps and heavy breathing.

As they neared the end of the story's main corridor, the line of locked wooden doors had shifted to one of locked metal ones. Monika looked warily at the first one they passed, but did not give it much extra thought. It was the last of these heavily guarded rooms, it turned out, to be the one she should have paid more attention to.

As soon as Ian had reached for the knob of the final door in this hallway, all of them praying it wouldn't be bolted, there was a noise. All of them jumped and searched about wildly for it's source.

Nothing at first, but then the clamor restarted, very obviously coming from the right, and most obviously of violent struggle against metal. It sounded the way the elevator gate had when Monika had attempted to lift it herself. Only these sounds were much more desperately savage and numerous, as if whatever it was fighting on the other side of that door had much more immediate things to contend with than getting out of a stopped elevator.

Monika felt ill all over again. She was very curious to know why it was an imprisoned--...whatever it was--wanted out so badly, but didn't allow herself to imagine any possibilities. _CLANG. CLUNG. CLANG. CLUNG. CLANCLUNG._

Monika let out a shriek and nearly recoiled right back into Trish and Ian. The metal door had shaken.

No, not shaken.

It moved

Something was trying to get out, and it was succeeding. With no more inclination to watch and wonder at what may be on the other side of the barrier, the three rushed through the door (unlocked, fortunately), and continued down a much shorter leftward hallway, also with what was presumed to be an exit facing them at the corridor's end.

"How much further?" Monika's breath had been coming out in gasps since the episode with the metal door, and very closely resembled that of an asthmatic.

Ian wasted no time in closing the door behind them, resting against it at first but he quickly resumed his task of being point-man, holding the rebar as if it were a baseball bat, one hand on the end, the other holding onto the bloody cemented tip.

Their steps echoed after the noise had ceased outside again, and he turned to look at Monika when she asked but all he could offer was yet another shrug.

Perhaps he didn't know the layout as well as they had thought...

He opened the door at the end of the hall without a second thought, apparently knowing that one couldn't possibly be locked through some means the two girls would never be aware of without asking. Ian stepped through and held it opened, standing to the side as Monika and Trish exited.

While closing something caught his eye and he paused in his motions, staring into the hallway.

The handle on the door they had just left jiggled down the hall, lightly at first but with a growing intensity, as if it was being fumbled with and the user was growing more and more impatient. A slow creak as it opened and the sound of a heel clacking against wood.

"Shit..."

He and Trish cursed at the same time and, as she readied her pistol, Ian whirled around to look at Monika, holding one of her shoulders, rebar tightly clutched in the other hand, "Go down this hall and make two rights. There should be another room, empty, you can hide in there until--" he was interrupted by the nurse's shuffling and more clacks, but not the same as the heels... no...

Claws.

He continued after a hurried glance back, "Hide in there until we come for you, then we can get out. We're almost there," he practically turned her around and shoved her down the hallway himself, not daring to face the growing threat until he could no longer hear her clumsy foot steps rushing away.

Trish fired one shot, two, aiming at the nurse's legs but it didn't seem to take as much effect as it would have to a human; she had stumbled and groaned, making the two dogs sliding into the room after her start their murmured growling, putting her further on edge and causing more shots to ring.

She was shaking now as they kept coming, but she stood her ground and took a step or two forward into the doorway, trying to aim carefully at their heads, one at a time. Like before when she got one of the dogs in the head it went down to the ground, but not dead, it still kicked and sputtered and the other just stared at it for a moment before continuing on its path, blood dripping from its face.

The nurse was no better. She held tightly to a plank, stumbling forward and occasionally trying to swing it as if she were blind, not lifting her head to even bother a glance towards she and Ian.

"Are you gonna hel--"

A sudden sharp pain slammed into the center of her spine and her breathing stopped for a second, just to return in a short gasp as she fell forward, knees crashing against the floor, pistol sliding to the feet of the downed dog which slowly brought itself back to a stand.

Winded.

She couldn't move. Couldn't control her breathing, it just kept coming in the tiniest gasps possible.

The only thing she could control was her eyes. They looked about frantically as finally the first dog leaned down, sniffing at her face and opening its maws wider, making it look psychotic.

The door shut.

A sickening crunch was heard behind it as, he guessed, the dog had just taken a large bite into her skull.

Looking at the immediate area around him, Ian spotted a box. It appeared heavy and upon inspection it was, indeed, hard to budge, but he pulled it to the door, shoving it against it as best he could.

If the nurse had so much trouble with the other door she would probably give up with this one.


	8. I'm Sorry

An empty locker room was what came to be her designated hiding place. Without a second thought, Monika had stumbled inside and pushed the weight of her entire body back against the open door so it snapped closed with a resounding slam. With the hand that wasn't busy clutching the revolver, she dug around her pocket for the familiar feeling of rounded plastic. Her fingers closed on nothing but the papers from Ian's notes._ Shoot..._ Of course! She'd dropped the cell phone back up in the main basement, as they had fled it. Oh, how could she be so _stupid_?!

Holding onto a little mobile phone wouldn't have deterred her in the least.And now she had both darkness and the guilt of running and leaving Trish and Ian to battle. _Deserting_ her best friend when her life was in danger._Y ou would've just gotten in their way..._

She felt like a traitor.

_Leave it to the professionals. Trish is a cop, she knows how to handle herself. _With a regretful groan, Monika leaned the back of her head against the door she was still leaning on to keep closed. She could hear something on the other side, approaching. Footsteps. "Who's there?" _IDIOT! What if it's not Trish or Ian?_

Monika shakily readjusted her fingers on her revolver, still wondering how it was actors on TV made handling such a weapon look so easy and natural. Like you were some kind of ignorant fool if you were not able to shoot firearms.

The wood creaked under the weight of the approaching form, getting louder with each step. It was impossible to tell if they were noises from sneakers, heels or claws, but whatever the case, there was only one coming towards the door, whatever it was.

A pause.

"...Monika?" Ian scraped a finger on the dead wood of the door as if he were petting a small animal, what he had of a nail getting caught on some splintery bits but he didn't seem bothered as he continued for a few moments before attempting to turn the handle, "Monika, are you okay? ...We have to keep going... and... your friend..." his speech faltered and he stopped moving his hand against the door. It was like he was trying to find the right words to explain exactly what had happened down the hall just a few seconds ago.

How could he, really?

_Just them... _Monika released her extended inhale in relief and blundered about in the frustrating dark of the locker room. Once the nose of her weapon had been carefully adjusted inside her pocket in a way that seemed safe from accidental fire, she turned around and clumsily groped for the handle.

"Oh, thank _God_ you're both alright." with a sharp pull, the heavy door opened, it's hinges groaning at the unusual amount of force being placed on them. "Are they g--" Monika's eyebrows furrowed. With a couple of quick steps, she was out of the doorway and trying to peer behind Ian, as if he were hiding something from her. Obviously not finding it, she let her searching eyes squint down the hallway they were in, from where they were standing down to the obstructed door at the end."...where's...Trish?"She snapped her stare back at Ian, a look of utter confusion dominating her features. "Where's Trish?" she asked again.

He opened his mouth to reply and stalled, closing it again. How _could_ he say it? Surely not go into detail of what he saw. What he heard.

The nasty crunch.

Ian tried again, looking to the side rather than at her, shaking his head a bit, "Monika... the monsters**..."** It really was odd calling them that, monsters. Shouldn't monsters look like nothing else on earth? So far there had been dogs, nurses, all easily mistakable for things that shouldn't be acting in such manners. Too bad for he and Monika, really, that they looked so confusing.

And especially too bad for Trish.

"I'm really sorry... but we don't have time," he gained back his frantic demeanor, taking Monika by the wrist and starting to run, keeping the rebar held away from his legs. They were close and he knew it, they had to reach the only way up.They had to go back to the _other_ basement.The one that had scared the two girls into accidentally finding him to begin with.

All Monika's reaction could initially accomplish was following. The simple will to move her legs into a fast enough run to keep up with Ian, not even having to watch where she was going or steer her direction while being practically dragged behind him._...the monsters..._It was as if the implication that came with those two words had decided to hover about her as she ran forward, waiting for the most inopportune and inconvenient moment to sink in as something with a meaning she understood.

Dead.

Trish was dead, or badly injured, and they were running down the hall away from her.

Not two feet before Brookhaven's second elevator, Monika had gathered enough realization in her thoughts to reciprocate with action. A sudden tug of the arm in the opposite direction they had been running was all it took to wring out of Ian's grasp on her wrist. She had stopped completely.

"What are you _doing_?" Ian skidded to a stop shortly after she had, and predictably began to once again complain of their torpidity, making another grab for her wrist.Monika hugged her hand to herself protectively.

"Did you _SEE_ her die?! Did you even _check_?"

"I _HEARD_ it!" he snapped back with some irritation. "Do you want to know what I _SAW_? I _saw_ her get surrounded and the dog--" Ian stopped, realizing who it was he was yelling at, and how much of their precious time was being wasted in the process. In an attempt to negate his previous bluntness, he promptly added. "It was quick..."Monika did not reply.

Her desperation was that of a cornered wild animal. Back hunched slightly forward, knees bent, and muscles rigid, she seemed very much like a tensed rabbit ready to flee at any moment. Half of her had already gone on it's way accepting this death as a fact of life. Her other half cared to hear neither what the opposite side, nor Ian had to say on the subject.

Without any other choice to turn to, he took advantage of this moment of indecisiveness and this time managed to get a good grip on Monika's hand. By the time she realized that he had pulled her inside and hit a destination button, it was too late for her to have made up her own mind.Without even a glance at what story Ian had almost accidentally chosen, she twisted about to glare at and accuse him of trying to leave her friend behind. 

_Trish wouldn't just... just _LEAVE _me alone to fight all these godforsaken monsters and deal with my own stalker. She _CAN'T _leave me! She had a gun, how could she die??_ She left out the 'stalker' part once she voiced these thoughts.

"She didn't _LEAVE YOU_! She got _KILLED_, Monika! She got killed by the damn dogs and she's _GONE_. It wasn't her fault, but it _HAPPENED_..." Ian backed up until he was against the wall, dropping the rebar with a terrible clang and using the other hand to cover his eyes as he sighed. "I'm sorry."

Monika's expression softened, finding herself unable to hold such a fiercely venomous glare for as long as she would have liked. Once there was nothing left to hide her miserable acceptance behind, she could do nothing but mourn for her friend, and her own guilt at not being with Trish in her last moments, helping her. _Too quick..._ Everything in this hospital was just too unpredictable and mercilessly rapid. Monika rubbed furiously at the damp lines running vertically across her cheeks.Her inability to conceal these unwanted emotions only left her worse yet, and Monika, too tired to pent it any longer, let herself lament in the most natural and instinctive way her body knew how.

She cried.

By the time the elevator had come to a stop, having reached it's commanded destination, Ian could stand Monika's hiccups and whimpering no longer. In a failed attempt to calm her, he scuffled to the girl's side and lifted an arm up to her shoulders. As soon as the distressed woman felt a presence behind her, she instinctively ducked from under it and stepped back, obviously not in the mood to be touched. Ian slouched disappointedly, seeming quite empathetic to her. "I'm sorry..." his sincerity gave Monika the slightest pang of guilt, for taking the situation out on him. Perhaps she would apologize later. For now, though, there was the matter of finding a way out of the building.

The doors of the lift slid open to reveal the basement, once again. Monika physically recoiled in surprise at the scene in front of her, which was not the one she has left in a bloody, nightmarish mess of wastes and carcasses, but how she and Trish had originally found it: an empty, ill-lit series of rooms that posed no greater danger than unseemliness. She tried not to let her extreme bewilderment of this setting preoccupy her so much as to slow her down.Ian had discovered a set of stairs up to the first story, unnoticed (or perhaps even nonexistent) before, and it was only a matter of minutes after this finding that they were leaving Brookhaven Hospital for good.


End file.
